Murphy's Law 1 - Partnership in Death
by Mel J1701
Summary: Harm and Mac must find a serial killer who is targeting Navy partners before they become victims.


**Title: Murphy's Law I: A Partnership In Death  
  
Author: Mel (e-mail me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of 'JAG' are the property of Donald Bellasario, CBS and Paramount and no profit has been made by my utilising them in my story. Everyone else are my creations.  
  
Rating: R for violence and bad language  
  
Summery: Male and female Navy partners are the target of a serial killer, and it is up to Harm and Mac to apprehend the killer before they become the next victims. FINISHED 1999  
  
Archiving: Okay, as long as my name stays on it.  
  
Feedback: Send it, if you want.**  
_____________________________________________________________________  
  
**Rock Creek Park  
0012 EST, September 9th**  
He watched them, laughing, and chatting like they hadn't a care in the world. It disgusted him, made him sick to his stomach. They had no right to be happy, they should be suffering like she had suffered the wrath of cruel mental torture and desertion. Yet, they carried on, oblivious to the world.  
  
It was then he realised. It was so clear that he gasped at the fact he had not seen it for ages. Like the previous time, it was his job to hand out the punishments, it was his job to hurt then like she had been hurt...and ultimately, it was his job to carry out her vengeance. Unlike the last time, he comprehended this job would take longer and there were many out there he had to punish, so many. It would be dangerous and there were those who would try to halt him yet he had to complete his work, maintaining a level of secrecy so he would not be discovered.  
  
And so he followed them down the dark path through the now isolated park, silently accepting his task to see that justice would be done. In his right hand he clutched the sharp metal and in his left the tranquilliser gun, his grip as strong as steel.  
  
He was surprised at how young they were, but then youth did not excuse. They had not been expecting his intrusion into their seclusion, he could feel their panic. Sure they tried to escape him, tried to call out for help that did not come, but it was a rather pitiful attempt. It was nearing midnight and few were strolled through the park at such an hour. Also, a shot of the his little inject-gun delivered through his handy little tranq gun was enough to suitably subdue the pair.  
  
The man tried to protect the girl but it was in vain. Alcohol dulled his previously acute senses and he brought him down with unexpected ease. The girl put up a slightly tougher fight but she too succumbed to the pain- both physical and mental.  
  
He stared at their inert bodies for what seemed like eternity. It was not enough, he surmised. It was not enough retribution. Obviously, he would have to strike again...  
***********************  
**JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
0915 EST, September 9th**  
"Aah, another victory for the home team."  
  
Major Sarah 'Mac' Mackenzie looked up from behind her desk to see her smug partner standing by her office door. Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Junior was smiling, looking for all the world like a small boy who had finally got one up on an elder sibling. She knew that comparison was not far from true. He was revelling in the contentment of recently winning a case against her. Normally, such an event would pass without another word but Mac could tell he was still a little vexed over the Barry case, which he would have lost to her had the 'victim' actually been dead!  
  
"Yeah, well, have your fun now, Fly Boy," she retorted, "the next time I won't be so easy on you."  
  
He made a face. "Hey, I was the one being easy on you."  
  
She scoffed as she lifted a juicy, relished-filled hamburger to her mouth, sighing blissfully. It took a minute or two (actually, eighty-three seconds to be exact) to realised Harm's disapproving glare boring into her head.  
  
"What?"  
  
Harm sighed, as if about to explain a simple fact to a dense child. "Do you know how much cholesterol are in those things?"  
  
"I didn't have time for breakfast this morning," Mac said, defensively. "This is a quick and easy meal."  
  
"It isn't 'quick and easy' on your arteries. And isn't that your third one today?"  
  
"No...this is my second." One raised eyebrow on Harm's part was all it took before the barrier broke. "Okay, okay, my third. God, have you always been like this? I've never met someone so fastidious."  
  
"I am not fastidious, I just respect my body and know not to pollute it with crap. All that fat in that junk food isn't good for your heart."  
  
Just as Mac opened her mouth to respond to his insult about 'junk food', their commanding officer's yeoman- PO Tiner- stuck his head into the office. "Sir, Ma'am, Admiral Chedwiggen had asked to see you both in his office immediately."  
  
Harm nodded his acknowledgement to the young man. Mac shot her partner a glare warning him this discussion was not over as the pair marched to their superior's office.  
***********************  
AJ Chedwiggen had a powerful personality that seemed to encompass the entire headquarters. He was a former SEAL and an excellent commander who had been in many battle situations during his accomplished career with the Navy. So, it struck Harm with stupefaction to see the man appear almost shaken.  
  
The Admiral indicated for his two officers to take a seat then he sighed heavily. He was silent for a moment, and though curiousity was burning Harm, he knew it was Chedwiggen's prerogative to speak first.  
  
In a saddened voice he finally said, "I have had some extremely disturbing news this morning. Apparently two young lieutenants were murdered in DC after they were out for a drink...One of them was my godson, Andrew Sinclair, and the other was his colleague, Susie Myers."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," Mac said, expressing her condolences but appalled that such a crime could have been murdered in cold blood.  
  
She was not alone in her shock. Harm knew the country's capital was not the safest place in the world, heaven knows one had to watch one's self, but that was to be expected. But tourists, drunks, wandering children - they were the targets for the criminal world. Not Navy officers...  
  
"Yes, well, Andrew was a strong boy and his partner was a black belt in judo, it would have taken someone professional to bring them down... especially in the way they were."  
  
Mac frowned at this. "Sir?"  
  
"They were...from the initial police report the kids were skewered with such violence to the point where their bodies were just bloodied pulp." Chedwiggen swallowed. He was not just reacting to the fact that his godson was one of the victims but also that two young lives had tragically been cut short. "Since the crime happened in civilian jurisdiction the local police should be handling this but I want to assist. Not just for Andrew's sake, but this psycho...he had no right to hurt to good officers in such a degrading way."  
  
"Have the police allowed us to help?" Harm spoke up. He had been in JAG long enough to learn of the open hostility civilian law enforcement felt towards the military.  
  
"No, but goddammit they had better." AJ stood up and reached for his coat. "I want you two to lead the investigation- whether it is official or unofficial- but I will back you and so will the top brass. Let's go to the crime scene now, I want to make sure those damn cops treat those officers with the respect they deserve."  
************************  
**Rock Creek Park  
1032 EST, September 9th**  
Mac inwardly shivered as she gazed around the setting in front of her. The normally bustling park was now devoid of laughing children and picnicking families, only to be pervaded by law enforcement officials and nosy reporters out to milk a story. Uniformed police officers swamped the crime scene but were surprisingly outnumbered by the abundance of FBI agents, who seemed to monopolise the centre of the murder site. FBI? What the hell were they doing here? Mac was sure the Feds rarely interfered in 'simple' murder cases unless there was a deeper reason. That just left the question of what would motivate federal involvement. Judging by her colleagues' befuddlement, they too were wondering the same.  
  
Chedwiggen's scowl was enough to intimidate the young police officer guarding the lines but Mac did not really expect them to get far. Dressed in their military uniforms, they stood out a mile and she knew it would not be wrong before someone spotted them. And she was not wrong. A young man, wearing a navy FBI-issue windbreaker and a 'government' suit, stared at the trio then alerted them that he was aware of their invasion into FBI dominion but his response to their presence was not at all what Mac anticipated.  
  
"Hamie," he shouted, "you know this is very bad, you shouldn't be here." He was not stern but amused, and he had spoken Harm's name, well, a version of his name.  
  
Mac spun around to Harm to find her partner's face range from surprise to mild delight. From the looks of things, the FBI kid's partner- or the woman who looked to be his partner- seemed similarly dumbfounded at her colleague's familiarity to Harm. The Admiral was also wondering what was going on.  
  
The young FBI agent approached the JAG officers, his partner, and an older man following closely behind him. The Fed was smiling- no, smirking- at Harm yet he did not appear hostile or annoyed, if anything he looked to be pleased.  
  
Pulling out a map of the city, etched with various boundaries, the FBI agent said to Harm, "You know this is FBI land." He indicated to the park on the map as he spoke. His finger then moved to another area and he continued, "This is Navy world. You shouldn't be here."  
  
Harm rolled his eyes. "I shouldn't be here? You're not even meant to be in DC. I thought you were still in New Orleans or Los Angeles, or wherever. Why didn't you tell me you got back? When the hell did you get back?"  
  
"Oh, I got back a coupla days ago. DC had always been my home base, y'know." The kid smiled sheepishly. "I guess I forgot to call you, huh?"  
  
"Forgot? You could have come to my apartment, or even just come by the Headquarters- it isn't far from your house."  
  
The Fed shifted at that implication. "Well, you know me and military- we don't mix." He smirked. "If you weren't family I'd have thrown you guys outta here by now and charged you with messing with a federal case."  
  
"Who are you, son?" demanded the Admiral. Mac knew he was impatient and desperate to work on the murders, this little whipper-snapper was interfering with his plans.  
  
"Who the hell wants to know?" countered the FBI agent, his azure eyes now narrowed.  
  
Chedwiggen was not expecting this show of disrespect. Mac could tell the kid did not appreciate the Admiral's imposing questions and was deliberately out to prove to Chedwiggen he was not some ensign, or even Navy for that matter.  
  
After glaring coolly at the Fed kid for a full minute he smiled faintly, amused at the younger man's attitude. "Since you asked, son, the name is Admiral AJ Chedwiggen, United States Navy. These are my officers, Major Sarah Mackenzie and Lieu-"  
  
"Yeah, no need for introductions. I know Harm," the Fed cut in.  
  
"Do you know them, Sam?" asked the female agent, frowning almost suspiciously.  
  
"Oh yeah, this is Lieutenant Harm-"  
  
"I'm a lieutenant commander now, Sam," interjected Harm.  
  
The Fed- who was evidently named Sam- shrugged him off. "Same difference. Anyway, Lieutenant Commander Harmon Rabb Junior is my big cousin."  
  
Mac swallowed back a grin. It was so hard to believe this hyperactive, belligerent kid was Harm's cousin. How could the Navy's poster boy be related to the living contradiction of military decorum? This was going to be interesting.  
  
Chedwiggen raised an eyebrow. "Your cousin?"  
  
"Yes, sir, this is Sam Madigan-"  
  
"Ah-ah, Hamie, Special Agent Sam Madigan is my name today. And this is my partner, Special Agent Kim Adair and one of our VCS team members, Special Agent Jack Harper."  
  
"VCS?" Mac questioned curiously. Due to her avoidance of most FBI agents, she was not too familiar with 'fibbie abbreviations'.  
  
"Violent Crimes Section," explained Jack Harper, who had remained quiet until this moment. "And I think this constitutes as a violent crime."  
  
"Why?" Harm asked cautiously.  
  
"Have you seen the bodies?" exclaimed Sam. He lowered his tone, as if aware that the Admiral was somehow personally involved with the victims. "Those officers were stabbed so brutally that it sickened even me, and I've seen a lot of bodies since joining the Bureau."  
  
The female agent took over. "The weapon used was a knife but given that the victims were Navy trained and the male of the pair was fairly muscular, I would have to postulate that some sort of tranquilliser was used, which basic blood tests should confirm if I am correct. The strength of the blows was massive and caused extensive injury to the chest and abdomen and the injuries to the male are much more severe. Whoever done this must have one really sick wacko from what else I noticed."  
  
"Why did you see?" Mac asked, almost afraid of the answer.  
  
"Well, the blows around the neck were almost enough to decapitate them."  
  
Chedwiggen gasped, and Harm turned to him ready to offer support. "Are you okay, sir?"  
  
"I-I can't believe this...Andrew was only a kid, he didn't deserve this."  
  
Sam gazed at Chedwiggen. "So you knew one of the victims." It was more of a statement than a question, as if to verify what he already knew.  
  
"Yes, Andrew...he was my godson. I've known him since he was born, his father and I were old school friends."  
  
"Don't worry, we will catch whoever did this," assured Sam.  
  
Now glaring at Sam and his partner, the Admiral scowled. "It is you three heading the investigation?"  
  
Mac could see why he was concerned. Jack Harper was a tough-looking man, in his late forties to early fifties. He probably would have dealt with many crimes over the years. A sharp contrast to Sam Madigan and Kim Adair. No offence to Harm, but the pair appeared like they had not even graduated high school let alone the FBI academy. Kim did not look a day over twenty-five and Sam was no more than a year or so older. God, they were kids- Bud and Harriet were older than them and they were still supervised on the minor cases they were assigned. How could these kids be entrusted with such an weighty case like this?  
  
Apparently, Sam picked up on the Admiral's uncertainty with regards to his young age, and the soured glare he shot the older man could have pulverised him where he stood.  
  
"Hey, Ad, would it assure you to know I have a PhD in clinical psychology and my partner is a forensic pathologist-"  
  
"A doctor?" Harm interjected. Sam was not renowned for his faith in the medical profession. He remembered how his auntie would have to physically carry her youngest son to the doctor when he was sick and God help the poor physician that had to give Sam his inoculations.  
  
Sam grinned lightly. "Yeah, ironic, huh? I have a dislike-"  
  
"Phobia," Kim cut in.  
  
"-A hatred of doctors and then not only does Jenny go off and become a paediatrician but I get stuck with a doc as a partner. It's like being partnered with your mother, she gives me lectures on what I should eat, what I should do, what is dangerous, what is good for me."  
  
Mac snorted at this and Harm shot her a glare.  
  
"Hey, be good," Kim warned, "just remember who's in charge of your inoculation boasters. If you're not nice I might have to recommend you need a rabies shot and you know that's made up of six needles."  
  
"For a person who deals with dead people, who says she doesn't have a bedside manner?" Sam muttered. He grew serious. "Anyway, Ad, my partner and I have assisted in the investigation of several serial crimes and I have been a profiler since I graduated from the academy. I may be young but youth has little do to with my being able to solve this crime."  
  
Two things about Sam's statements stuck out. The first being his repeated reference to the Admiral as 'Ad' but the second was more disconcerting...Serial crimes. That meant a serial killer, which meant more victims.  
  
"You think this is a serial killer?" Harm asked his cousin. "Is that why the FBI is here?"  
  
His smug grin vanished as Sam nodded solemnly. "Yes, we're here because I am of the opinion this is a serial crime. The cops don't want to touch this case with a barge pole, especially since the military officers are victims."  
  
"Why do you think there is a serial killer at work?"  
  
"I have reason to believe that is the avenue we should pursue because it could be linked to two other cases from a few years back." Sam pulled out two files that was tucked in his windbreaker.  
  
Harm took it and Mac and the Admiral read it from over his shoulder. The first file detailed the double murder of two Navy officers- a male and female cadets-which occurred five years prior while the two officers were out for a drink. The case was listed as unsolved. The second file was of another pair of Navy officer- again both male and female, this time non-commissioned officers- who were found knifed just outside the male officer's apartment in New York two years ago.  
  
"I remember these," Chedwiggen spoke up. "What had this got to do with now? Wasn't the killer a street punk?"  
  
"No, the cops who investigated it only speculated the killer was a 'street punk', as you so eloquently put it, since the bodies were found in an area of town prone to gang violence, nobody was ever apprehended. The male officer was a former known junkie, the cops were willing to assume it was one of his former friend with a grudge. However, no-one claimed responsibility with the snitches saying all suspected gang members were denying ordering the hit which in itself is odd since there is a tendency to make clear if a hit was initiated as a warning to others."  
  
"Okay, but this case was in New York, it has no connection."  
  
"People travel, killers can too, y'know. Maybe our UNSUB- sorry, our UNknown SUBject- was in New York at the time of the killings. The cops are likely to dismiss it since the killing happened in Brooklyn, they deal with so many crimes a year that no much effort is put in when the murderer could be one of many in the area."  
  
"So why link up the two killings with this own?"  
  
Sam exchanged an uncomfortable look with his co-workers then pushed on. "Well, in all three cases the victims were male and female Navy officers who were socialising together, the weapon used was a knife and a tranquilliser on the male while arsenic was used for the female of the pair was used in both cases, to possible subdue the victims...That's all a little too coincidental for me. Judging by the increased rage exhibited in this killing however, leads me to the conclusion the killer will strike again...and soon."  
  
Jack Harper shifted his gaze to the Admiral. "And I would trust the kid's instincts on this one, Admiral. He may be young but he's one of the FBI's finest profilers."  
  
"Oh my God...so what should we do? How can we help in your investigation?"  
  
"You can't," Kim replied, simply. "This isn't Navy jurisdiction. This crime occurred in federal property and despite the victims being Navy officers, we have full investigative rights."  
  
"However, you can talk to our Assistant Director." It was Harper who put forward suggestion only to be rewarded with murderous glares by his two fellow agents. He shrugged them off, sighing.  
  
"Then we'll do that."  
  
"Hey, Ad, don't be so sure the AD will allow you to help," Sam said.  
  
"I'll keep that in mind. And, son, would you kindly not refer to me as 'Ad'?" Chedwiggen growled.  
  
"Sure thing, Ad, as soon as you quit referring to me as 'son'."  
  
With that, he wandered off to his Ford Taurus, which was parked by the perimeter of the crime scene. His partner shadowed him, and Harper smiled an apology before following. The Admiral just stood shocked. Mac could hardly blame the man. Harm had always been the most impeccable of officers, quick to respond to most commands and respective to those above and below him. And then there was Sam...  
  
Hoping the FBI Assistant Director allowed them to chance to investigate a crime on two of their own, Mac could not help but look forward to working with Sam. It sure would be an extraordinary experience.  
*************************  
**FBI Building, Washington DC  
1118 EST, September 9th**  
Harm could have seen Santa Claus himself at that crime scene and he would have reacted with less astonishment. But Sam...He could have gone into cardiac arrest at that moment had he not been so military-inclined.  
  
That goddamn brat that was his cousin was meant to be in Los Angeles, Seattle, Australia, Mars-anywhere but here. He loved Sam, the kid was his cousin and looked to Harm as a big brother but his hatred- perhaps hatred was a rather strong word, wariness was more accurate- of the military was not something Sam hid. Not that Harm could exactly blame him. While he had six years to love his father and let his father love him, Sam's father was gone when his youngest son was just two months old- lost to the same war which took the elder Rabb. Unlike his mother, Sam's mother was alone to raise three children under eleven without a clue as to whether her husband was a POW or if he died in the plane crash that sent him plummeting into the jungles.  
  
Sam could tolerate military personnel in small doses, which was more than could be said for his elder brother who despised all things related to the armed forces (thankfully, Harm escaped his hatred marginally), but if the FBI allowed Navy involvement in this case Harm was anxious as how to his cousin would behave.  
  
The trip into the FBI building and up to Sam's office was in silence but the cousins could tell their partners were itching to hear all their gossip. Sam's partner, Kim, was in disbelief that a Navy officer was related to him and Mac was probably desperate to have Sam spill some stories of Harm's childhood that she could use for future blackmail purposes. Harm made a mental note to keep Sam away from Mac.  
  
The office which belonged to the VCS Alpha team (apparently, that was the name tagged to Sam's squad) was an epitome of the word contrast. There was four desks in the large room, two to the right and two to the left. One on the right side was empty (Harper explained it belonged to his partner who was currently on maternity leave), Harper own desk opposite was reasonable. But then was Kim and Sam's desks, which were tucked to the left side of the room. Kim's was methodically arranged with files neatly piled and a computer placed to one corner. A shocking contrast to Sam's, which had files strewn everywhere, even on the floor. A pile of candy bars scattered all over the desk and his computer looked dangerously close to falling. Maybe Sam wasn't his cousin, judging by the state of his desk he seemed more closely related to Mac.  
  
"I see you still eat like an eight-year-old," muttered Harm, sighing at the candy bars. "And I like the state of your desk, Sammy."  
  
"Jeez, Hamie, you can be such a old moan sometimes and as for the candy, hey, I need my energy. A sugar fix a day keeps the doctor away."  
  
"I think you'll find that's 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away'," corrected Kim.  
  
"Picky, picky and my aim isn't that good anyway. Oh, and, Harm, this is what we call an organised mess," sustained Sam.  
  
Kim snorted at this. "Yeah right, Sam. Yesterday you spent the entire day looking for a file. That desk is a damn jungle."  
  
"I don't see anything wrong with it," Mac spoke up.  
  
It was Harm's turn to snort. "That's 'cause your desk is just like his- a tip. I've seen garbage piles in better organised."  
  
"Has he always been like this?" Mac asked Sam.  
  
"Oh yeah, his mom was so concerned she thought he had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Actually, since getting my Ph.D., I've had time to analyse him and I think she might be right. I was going to do my thesis on him, y'know, but then he threatened to sue me. Really sucks being related to a lawyer."  
  
Harm scowled at his cousin. The little traitor. Definitely, be making sure he had as little contact with Mac as possible.  
  
Just then, a tall man walked into the office. He held an air of confidence coupled with a touch of serenity. But his 'serenity' vanished the moment he set eyes on the three agents, Sam in particular. It took a minute for Harm to realise the man's arm was immobilised, there was a slight limp to his gait, and a gash of his forehead appeared quite fresh.  
  
"Uh, hi, sir," Sam mumbled, hesitantly. "I didn't think you'd be in today."  
  
"What? Thought it would take longer for me to recover from a plane crash, huh?" Catching sight of the JAG trio, the newcomer's attention diverted. "I'm Assistant Director David Lawson, I believe you wanted to see me."  
  
The Admiral introduced his officers then proceeded with requesting permission to join the FBI in investigating the killings. As he spoke, it became apparent to Harm his cousin and his partner were not too keen on the idea. Probably did not approve of the thought of the military encroaching on Bureau territory. But two- possibly six- Navy personnel had died at the hands of this lunatic and they could just stand by doing nothing.  
  
Once Chedwiggen was finished, Lawson turned his gaze to Harm. "I heard you were this one's cousin." It was more of a statement than a question. "So you really are a Navy pilot?"  
  
"Yes," answered Harm, puzzled as to where this conversation was going.  
  
"See- I told you," Sam said, smugly, sounding more like a self-satisfied five-year-old than a federal agent.  
  
Lawson scowled. "Just because he's a Navy pilot does not mean you can fly too."  
  
Harm now turned to his cousin, who was looking for all his worth like a disobedient brat. "You said you could fly?"  
  
"Yes, he not only said he could fly when he stole a plane but said it was you who taught him."  
  
Stole a plane? What kind of FBI agent was Sam?  
  
Harm's eyes lowered. "Sam, I taught you to fly when you were twelve down at the video game arcade."  
  
"A tiny detail, jeez, aren't we all in a nit-picking mood today?!...Besides, I can fly," Sam said, "I just can't land. The video game didn't cover that."  
  
"What were you doing stealing a plane?"  
  
"We were investigating something for the Narco squad and we accidentally ended up in Mexico facing some pretty nasty perps and the plane was the quickest way out."  
  
"Of course," Harper spoke up, "Sam got out of the crash in perfect condition as did his partner in crime." Kim took this moment to smile sheepishly, admitting her own guilt. "I got a nice concussion."  
  
"And I practically broke every bone in my body," growled the AD. He then smirked maliciously. "And, Agent Madigan, Agent Adair, I haven't had time to reprimand you."  
  
"Formal reprimands in our records, sir?" If Harm didn't know any better he would have thought Sam was actually pleading for that. God, that kid could be so weird sometimes.  
  
"No," replied Lawson, "your punishment will be to solve the double murders, with assistance for our very own Navy officers. You'll have the back up from whoever you need in the department but you will be heading the investigation."  
  
If the AD had told Sam he had to face a firing squad he would have looked less shocked and dismayed. Harm smiled inwardly. He always loved his little cousin but Sam was had been the baby of the family and was constantly spoilt by both- it felt strangely good to watch him get his come-uppance.  
  
"Work with them?" whined Sam.  
  
"Do we have to, sir?" moaned Kim.  
  
The AD smirked at the two. "And don't you dare try to ditch them, kiddies, because I have a nice bag-snatching case just waiting for you if you do," he warned as he walked off chuckling away to himself.  
  
"That man has a sadistic streak," muttered Sam.  
  
"It's all your fault," Harper said, "If you two hadn't lied and said you could fly that damned plane we would be investigating this one alone." Sam rolled his eyes, which were as azure blue as Harm's, before Harper asked, "So how d'you want to start this?"  
  
Harm noticed he directed this question at Sam and he instantly remembered his baby cousin was the chief profiler in this case. He had to remind himself that Sam was not a little kid anymore, he was the man who would be primarily responsible for catching this scum.  
  
"I wanna check out the bar those two officers were last at. I got a feeling our UNSUB has a big grudge against the Navy and I betcha he knew those the victims were Navy even though they weren't wearing their uniforms."  
  
"And how will you know what bar they were at last?" asked the Admiral.  
  
Grinning, Sam raised his eyebrow. "'Cause I'm an FBI agent and it's my job to know these things and 'cause of this." He tossed a matches box imprinted with the words 'Delmoro's Bar' to the Admiral. "Oh, and next time dress in normal clothes. This stuff cramps our style. Can't let the guys know I'm related to a swabbie."  
  
Harm just sighed resignedly. He wished for a simple court case to drop on his lap- anything but spend the next few weeks with Sam. This kid was going to humiliate him at every turn.  
*************************  
**Delmoro's Bar, Washington DC  
1256 EST, September 9th**  
Sam Madigan screeched the Land Rover to a halt directly outside the bar. Usually, he was only permitted a boring Ford Taurus or a model equally as dull but this time since he was carting around some high-up Navy guy (an admiral who was the Judge Advocate General- according to Harm that was pretty important but he was damned if he could recognise that) the AD allowed him to drive something cooler.  
  
"Did you have to drive so fast, Sam?" complained Harm.  
  
God, the guy was meant to fly F-14's for a living and here he was moaning when Sam went above the speed limit. Harm may insist he was a Navy officer first but he was still a lawyer and that much showed.  
  
Rolling his eyes at Harm, he replied, "Relax, Hamie, you're so up-tight. You really outta try those deep-breathing exercises I told ya about. Lower that blood pressure- all this stress isn't good for your heart." Harm scowled at him as Mac stifled a grin. "Now, when we go in here let me handle this."  
  
"Son, I've dealing with people since you were in diapers," stated Chedwiggen. "I can handle this part of the investigation."  
  
Sam did not reply, willing to let the Admiral have his fun...for now. He could see Chedwiggen was not eager to fully trust him with the investigation yet, the old guy was probably non-too happy at the prospect of a Fed handling something which he felt the Navy should, especially when that Fed was young enough to be his son (well, he couldn't help the fact the man was born decades before him). Hell, the man struck Sam as one of those types who strictly believed the world went by the philosophy: the Navy comes first, the Navy comes last and the Navy comes in between. Fine, he could handle that, it would be amusing to see how he handled folk who did not abide by that rule and instead needed a little 'prodding' to refresh the memory.  
  
The bar was officially closed and would not open until late evening but with their FBI credentials, they managed to persuade the security detail to allow them access. Inside the bar, tables and chairs were arranged around a stage which presumably would be used for whatever act performed in this place (though, Sam doubted it would be anything too amorous- the bar held an attraction for both men and women). There was an Hawaiian ambience with fake palm trees and tropical flowers adorning the walls, tables, and the actual bar. It was not too seedy but not exactly, the ideal place for a quiet drink. Internally, Sam smirked sardonically as he wondered what was going through the Ad's mind knowing his perfect Navy godson spent his free time in this dump.  
  
"Excuse me," shouted the Admiral, "can I speak to who's in charge of this establishment?"  
  
Establishment?! God, where did the Ad think he was- some English tea shop? Sam secretly wondered just how far he would get before intervention was necessary. Kim shot him a glare, probably guessing what he was thinking, but he could see she was suppressing her own smirk.  
  
A short, plump man, chewing on gum, slouched across to the group. "I am, I'm Joey Delmoro. Who's askin'?" He glared at them, his eyes settling on the two women sleazily. Sam wondered if Delmoro was aware that Kim- a black belt in Taekwon Do- could kick his ass all the way to kingdom come if he let her and he had little doubt in his mind Harm's Marine partner would be any less forgiving.  
  
"My name is Admiral Chedwiggen, United States Navy. I'm conducting an investigation into the murder of two officers and was wondering if you can answer some questions."  
  
Nearly choking with laughter, Sam opted to wander around the bar letting the Ad deal with the situation for the moment. Nobody said 'wondered' if the witness would answer questions; you demanded their undying attention. It was obviously Mr Navy was trying to lose his military demeanour when dealing with a civilian but with a person like Delmoro his no-nonsense poise would be more effective. By the faint aroma of marijuana gracing the air, it seemed Delmoro was not exactly what one would call a model citizen and his shifty conduct only added credence to Sam's observations. It would be fascinating to see Delmoro's egotistical expression fall when he declared his FBI status.  
  
"What d'ya wanna know about, Navy?" Delmoro asked, going around the bar and pouring himself a drink.  
  
The Admiral pulled out two photographs from his pocket and handed them to Delmoro. "I was wondering if you recognise these two, if they have ever come in here before."  
  
Delmoro glanced at the photos then thrust them back to Chedwiggen. "Nuh, I ain't ever seen them. Is that all 'cause I'm really busy?"  
  
"Would at least take a moment to look at the photos?" Harm asked as politely as he could. Sam could see his cousin was fuming but was too well trained to show his anger.  
  
"Look, I don't need to talk to no-one, I ain't Navy and you have no right to question me so get the hell outta here."  
  
Enough was enough- time to take charge and show the Ad how things were meant to be done in the streets. Sam stalked over to Delmoro, snatching the photos from Chedwiggen's hand and shoving them in the bar owner's face.  
  
"Now, I don't wanna get mad and I get mad easily unlike the Ad here so if you know what's good for you you'll answer my questions. Now, have you seen these two people!" It wasn't a question but an order.  
  
Delmoro glared at Sam. "I don't have to tell you anything, boy."  
  
"I think you'll find it's in your own best interest if you do."  
  
"I think I'll take my chances. Now, why don't you take your little friends and get the hell outta here, boy-o? I don't have to talk to you, son."  
  
Kim winced not so much at his words but at how he said them. Sam's partner had known him long enough to know he hated people patronising him and to top it off Delmoro had called him 'son'. Sam had grown up without a father, who had gone in his youngest son's infancy, yet he still maintained respect for the man, mainly because he had heard enough stories of his father's antics and heroics. Since childhood, he had loathed older men, particularly strangers he had never set sight on before, referring to him as 'son' as if he had known them all his life.  
  
Yanking out his ID and waving it in front of Delmoro, smug when the scum paled at his sight of the federal position, Sam sneered. "First, I'm not your goddamn son nor would I ever want to be, and secondly, you talk to me here now or you talk to the scum in the federal penitentiary."  
  
Delmoro's eyes flicked to Chedwiggen. "You never said there were fibbies here."  
  
Sam grabbed Delmoro's collar, hauling him slightly over the bar counter. "You never asked...now from those certificates over there it seems your license will be up for renewal soon. You do know it's the federal government who deals with that kind of thing, and say if they were to get a very bad report from a certain 'fibbie' you might find yourself in the social security line down at the social security office...permanently."  
  
Delmoro's glare shifted from Sam to Kim. "I see that pretty little thing ain't wearing no uniform either- though, she'd look so good in one. She a Fed too?"  
  
"Yes, 'that pretty little thing' is a FBI too but I wouldn't piss her off. She enjoys the work she specialises in with the FBI and she tends to create more work for herself."  
  
"What'd she do?"  
  
"She's a pathologist."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She cuts up the dead bodies- so you see I kill you and she'll perform the autopsy and our bosses will just assume you had a tragic accident." He smirked as Delmoro paled.  
  
"That's police brutality."  
  
"Yeah, it would be if we were the police. Now, enough fun- answer the questions and we'll leave everything...and everyone intact."  
  
Delmoro sighed. "Okay, okay...yeah, I seen them before. They came in here often, both of them have a drink. They didn't cause any trouble just stayed in their own corner."  
  
Chedwiggen listened in, amazed at Sam's 'diplomatic' interrogating. Had the young FBI agent not been so resistant to the Navy he'd have made a great Naval intelligence officer. Harmon Rabb was an excellent lawyer and a admirable officer but he tended to be so virtuous when it came to questioning suspects- Madigan on the other hand, asked questions and would go to some fascinating lengths to get an damn good answer.  
  
"Were they well known to be Navy officers?" Sam asked, "I mean, was it a known fact by your patrons?"  
  
"Yeah, it was obvious they weren't neighbourhood kids, we get a lot of these Navy brats in here. A blind guy could pick them out."  
  
"Would anyone you know have any reason to harm them?"  
  
"I ain't snitching on my people, boy!" snapped Delmoro. "I'm not a grass. I've answered your questions so get the hell outta here."  
  
Sam inhaled deeply, an attempt to calm himself. Unlike his elder cousin, he did not have a mellow temper and when he was pissed off he had a tendency to become a tad extreme. Evidently, Delmoro needed to be taught that lesson.  
  
Frowning lightly, Sam tilted his head to the side and flicked a glance at Kim. "Hey, Kimmy, can you smell something?"  
  
"Yeah," replied Kim, on key as always, "something...I dunno...illegal?"  
  
Turning back to his suspect and smirking, Sam said in a low, calm voice, "Marijuana is my guess." His smirk broadened at the three Naval officer's frowns and sniffs. Aah, amateurs. "D'you know the penalty for messing with narcotics? Oh, it's very bad and with a little word for moi you'll be shipped off to maximum security for the longest sentence possible."  
  
"So what, boy? I've been in the joint before."  
  
"But it won't be you going to prison- oh no, that would be no fun. You see, I'll go into the street and find the fastest snitch available then spread the word you ratted on your accomplices. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when those guys catch up with you, I hear the punishment is...severe."  
  
At this threat, Delmoro's eyes popped open in alarm. "You wouldn't?" Sam's raised eyebrows answered the question for him. "Okay, there are plenty who'd wanna hurt them...not like kill them, just rough 'em up a bit. No-one would want the cops hanging out here. Whoever did those two in wasn't from around here."  
  
Sam smiled charmingly and released Delmoro's collar. "Thank you for your time, Mr Delmoro. We'll see ourselves out." He shook the confused suspect's hand warmly leaving Harm to gape at his cousin in amazement at the transformation that took place- one second he was like junior Mafia boss then next he was the model FBI agent. Harm's memory was pervaded with images of a sweet four-year-old kid who would do anything for you...Sam had certainly grown up.  
  
As the group started towards exit, Delmoro called out anxiously, "Hey, are you gonna spread the word around the street, Agent?"  
  
"Relax, you'll keep."  
  
Outside the bar, Harm turned to glare at his smug cousin. "That was well handled, Sam," Harm said, slightly sarcastically. He was usually conducted his investigations by-the-book so Sam's approach startled him. He couldn't believe FBI agents could get away with such an abrupt attitude.  
  
His tone angered Sam. "What d'you expect me to do, Harm? Threaten him with court martial, tell him how naughty it is to tell porkies...God, you can be such a lawyer sometimes."  
  
Sam didn't deliberately want to antagonise Harm, didn't mean to embarrass his cousin. God, he had out-grown that stage in eighth grade. He was not of the 'all military officers are the spawn of the devil' belief that his elder brother had fervently adopted soon after their father's disappearance/death but the relentless trust Harm placed in the military, after what the organisation had done to their fathers, did irritate him.  
  
Besides, what did he know about FBI work? He just dealt with nice little court cases which wrapped up into a perfect parcel- he didn't comprehend out in the real world things worked a little different- manipulation, threats, whatever were sometimes the only way to get the job done. Hamie would understand all that once he stopped looking on Sam as a sweet four-year-old kid.  
  
Much to his surprise, the Ad seemed to appreciate his actions though he did not openly admit it. Perhaps there was hope for the old guy.  
  
"So, would you have leaked the word on the street?" Major Mackenzie or, as she appeared to prefer, Mac asked curiously.  
  
"Yes." Harm's eyes widened in shock. "Hey, I did do a spell with the Organised Crime Unit and believe me, sticking by your word is the only way to deal with folks like that. That is the only way to gain respect. If I had played good little boy we'd still be in there looking for a non-existent suspect. Don't worry, we would have alerted our guys too...it would've been a race between the Narco unit and dealers to see which one got to our friend first." He grinned at that thought.  
  
"Are you gonna even call it in now?" Harm asked. "I mean, you said you wouldn't."  
  
"I lied."  
  
Kim answered, incredulously." Of course, we'll be calling it in. We are FBI agents, y'know."  
  
Harm resisted the urge to snort. Oh, so now they're FBI. God, he wished for that sweet little four-year-old cousin- at least he wouldn't have candidly violate regulations in full view of his partner and superior.  
*************  
**Outside a McDonald's, Washington DC  
1410 EST, September 9th**  
"No! It's humiliating."  
  
"Come on, Kim, you're getting a free Star Wars figure with it and I really need Chewbacca to finish my collection."  
  
"I can't believe I have to get a Happy Meal for my twenty-seven-year-old FBI partner, even my eight-year-old niece doesn't get those anymore."  
  
"Don't be such a Nazi about it, I just like Star Wars."  
  
The three Navy officers watched in amazement as Sam and Kim squabbled like a pair of little kids. Mac had to admit there was something cute in a man who wanted a Happy Meal. Sam was very good-looking, much like his cousin, and they shared many similarities: she and Sam had a passion from junk food; their personalities were akin...though Sam was a little on the young side...at least, for now. Plus, judging from the dagger-like glare Harm had shot when she first sized up Sam, he was warning her to keep her hands of his kid cousin. Not that Mac could blame him... she didn't have much luck with men and Harm probably didn't want his family to fall casualty to her curse.  
  
"Kim, can you go get the order? I need to finish up some stuff from the Risberg case," Sam said, as he pulled out his laptop computer and booted up.  
  
"Sure, just so long as you're not looking up cheats for 'Tomb Raider' on the Internet."  
  
"I'll come help carry the stuff, Kim," Harm offered. The Admiral also volunteered his services. Harm shot a glance at his partner. "Mac?"  
  
Mac just smiled at him. "I'll be here."  
  
Grudgingly, Harm nodded, obviously unsure of trusting Mac with Sam...or perhaps it was the other way around. After all, who better to get family gossip from than a member of the family?  
  
Mac studied Harm's retreating figure. They had been partners for close to three years now and there was still so much they had to learn about each other. Though she kept much of her life in the shadows (God only knew what Harm would think if he knew parts of her past) but she thought she was pretty clued-up on Harm- it wasn't like he had much dark history...or did he? Hell, she had only just learned about the existence of Sam.  
  
Her partner's behaviour changed so rapidly during the time he spent in Sam's company. Far from the obsessive, intense man he so usually was he had become more unconstrained, even boyish at times. It was so good to see him like this, without the worries that frequently plagued him.  
  
"What's up?" Sam asked, twisted around from the driving seat and now scrutinising her.  
  
Damn he was perceptive, so much like Harm when he was in a sensitive mood.  
  
"Uh, nothing."  
  
Sam straightened in his chair, glancing at the computer screen while his fingers danced across the keyboard. "You want to know why Hamie didn't tell you about me, huh." It wasn't a question. Mac couldn't help but wonder if the FBI taught mind-reading at their academy. "It's pretty obvious that's what you're thinking about, y'know. There is a reason in that my work tends to get a little messing form time to time and I don't want my family threatened so the less that people know the better. It's not like I go to lengths to hide my family relationships, I just don't declare them to everyone I meet. There's also the fact, I don't trust many people, that's how leaks in investigations arouse- call me paranoid- but I've told Hamie not to advertise the fact he's related to a Fed, especially when I'm on assignment on an organised crime case...Look, don't be too offended, I doubt if Kim knew about Harm either though she does have an advantage over you."  
  
"What would that be?"  
  
"I got an annoyingly interfering big sister."  
  
"There's more of you?" God, how much had Harm kept from her, this was reaching the point where she wouldn't be too surprised if Sam confessed Harm was really married and had a few kids stashed away.  
  
"Yeah, my big sister Jennifer and my big brother Nick- he's the oldest out of the four of us. Jenny's a doctor way out in Hawaii, she lives there with her husband and kids. And my brother, Nicky, is a lawyer too."  
  
"Navy?"  
  
"You've gotta be kidding?! Nick hates the Navy...Our father's plane crashed in 'Nam and his body was never found. Officially, he's MIA but...Nick and Harm both think our fathers are alive, Jenny and I are not so sure. No matter what, Nick blames the Navy."  
  
So, that was the sticking point within their family. One boy grew up embracing the Navy's principles in the hopes of finding his missing father and the other boy shunned the Navy, blaming them for taking his father.  
  
Before Mac could push the subject, hoping to get an insight into Harm's life, she caught the uncomfortable look passing across Sam's face and decided to drop it for something slightly more intrinsic.  
  
"Why do you call him Hamie?" Mac asked with a grin.  
  
Gratified she wasn't digging, Sam allowed himself to join in her smile. "When he was a kid that's all he would eat; ham for breakfast, ham for lunch and ham for supper. It got so bad his mom was all set to call in the dietician specialists. And to distinguish Harm from his father my brother decided 'Hamie' was a cool nickname and Harm agreed." Mac raised an eyebrow. "Hey, he was three. I guess he didn't think it would last this long."  
  
"I can't imagine Harm eating meat- he's practically a vegetarian."  
  
"Yeah, that comes from high school. You know how flaky teenagers can be, they all go through a vegetarian stage. Most give it up after a while, but you know Harm once he gets an idea into his head, he's like a dog with a bone."  
  
Mac nodded. Oh yeah, she knew that Harm very well- his determination left unsure of whether to admire him for it or kill him with frustration.  
  
"But I heard you already know that. You were with him when he traipsed off to Russia looking for his dad, weren't you? I couldn't believe it when Auntie Tricia told me about that one. No American goes off to Russia, don't they kill us for spying?"  
  
"The Cold War is over," reminded Mac.  
  
"Yeah right...Anyway, y'know, after the initial shock, I wasn't really surprised at him. He's so obsessive, he would've cracked if he hadn't gone to investigate whatever shred of evidence his dad was in Russia."  
  
"Was he as bad as a kid?" Apart from infinitesimal details of his childhood, Harm had shared very little of his life as a young boy with her. She was more than a little curious of how her straight-laced partner was like as a child.  
  
Sam snorted at that. "You kidding? He was terrible. God, there are so many examples; when he was four there was this tree he just had to climb, several broken bones later he succeeded but he didn't stop trying until he was up there; after Uncle H was gone, he decided to join the Navy and nothing was gonna stand in his way; when he was sixteen he ran off to Vietnam to look for his dad...I shouldn't be telling you this but my sister told me that when he was twelve or thirteen he would follow girls around like a dog on heat until they agreed to go out with him on a date."  
  
At this point, Mac nearly choked. Her good-looking partner trailing girls, she would have loved to have seen that one.  
  
Suddenly the car door opened and Harm, laden with a bag of food, glared suspiciously at his grinning partner and cousin.  
  
"What are you two smiling at?"  
  
"Nothing," chimed Mac and Sam in unison.  
  
Needless to say, Harm did not believe them for a second. His dubiousness was heightened when Mac reached forward and said, "Sam, you'll have to tell me more."  
  
To which the young agent replied, "Don't worry, we're going to be working together for quite some time and there's so much more to go around."  
**************  
**Lieutenants' Sinclair and Myers Office  
The Pentagon  
1012 EST, September 10th**  
An autopsy conducted by Kim indeed confirmed that a heavy tranquilliser was used on Sinclair and arsenic was injected into Myers- the same MO as the first two killings. This was all too much of a coincidence for Sam so he wanted to get a more in-depth sense of the victims before beginning a profile.  
  
It had been Sam's idea to visit the young officers' place of work as a possible avenue to investigate. Ironically, he had been pleased for once that he had the backing of the Navy on this otherwise he might have had some problems entering the Naval base. This way, he had the freedom to look around unguarded without having to worry about red tape had he been alone, especially since the victims worked in the Pentagon.  
  
"So where do they keep the 'secret' files in this place?" Sam asked. Kim chuckled while Harm shot him a glare.  
  
"This place is so interesting," enthused Kim. She spent much of her time in autopsy bays and the times she and her partner travelled, it was to other states in invariably public areas. It was quite a thrill to be in the Pentagon. "How come they get a cool five-sided building with all the works and we get some dull cuboid? Don't you think this is neat, Sam? Just think, if we weren't with the Navy we'd wouldn't be allowed in here. Sometimes, military involvement is a good thing." Her partner seemed awfully aloof and reserved with Harm and his colleagues- usually Sam would have been jumping around like a little kid on Christmas. She was trying to entice him into his typical boyish self.  
  
Unfortunately he was in a sour mood at having to spend yet another day in the company of the military, albeit his own cousin. Jack had escaped, the AD temporarily assigning him to the Fraud squad for the next few days. Sam had attempted to ask for re-assignment by the Bureau's best profiler was not getting off that easily.  
  
Sam turned an irritated gaze to Kim. "Yeah, this is so 'neat'. They'll probably put a contract out on us once the case is over. I watched 'Conspiracy Theory' too."  
  
Harm sighed. "No-one is getting a contract put out on anybody, will you just relax and have faith in the military for once."  
  
"You get paid to advertise for them. Probably said that to every poor dead sucker who came here..." was his mumbled reply.  
  
Kim just shrugged at Harm. "Hey, Sam, what are we looking for anyway?" she asked, trying to change the subject though genuinely curious. "What do you hope to find?"  
  
"Anything that may tie the UNSUB to the victims," He noticed Chedwiggen wince at his detached tone, "to any hint they were being targeted."  
  
"So you think they could have been watched by the UNSUB before the killings," Kim stated.  
  
Sam nodded. "Yes, I think there is a possibility that the killer discreetly stalked our officers before making his hit. One we cannot dismiss. Not to mention I wanted to get a quick look at their colleagues- see if there was any grudges or fights going on that could relate to our inquiry."  
  
"Do you think that a Navy officer did this?" Chedwiggen asked with a scowl.  
  
Poor Ad, he just couldn't fathom the thought that one of his own might have killed a fellow officer. For Sam it was far easier to come to terms with, as young as he was he had long since learnt that every human being had some degree of evil within them and there were those who acted on that evil- military officers included.  
  
"Well, it's a possibility we must look into, Ad," replied Sam. "I think the UNSUB obviously has a deep hatred towards Naval officers hence the fact that six officers were targeted. There is a significance in the fact that in each case partner teams were the victims. The killer obviously knew that and to know that must mean he had some kind of knowledge about the intended victims."  
  
"We don't even know if the first two killings are related," Harm pointed out.  
  
Sam was a little annoyed now. He could deal with the lack of confidence the Ad had in him, but to have his own family doubt his abilities really got to him. "Harm, you are the lawyer and you're great in court apparently but I am the FBI and I am good at investigating crimes so please trust me when I think the first two killings were done by the same person. The use of tranquillisers in all the murders are proof enough."  
  
The group sifted through the office, searching for possible clues, for half an hour before Sam pulled out a letter that was tucked in Lieutenant Sinclair's sports bag. Written in a childish scrawl that letter said:  
  
_-----I've been watching you two together and we know what you've been up to. Out for a meal at Delmoro's or that visit to see 'Saving Private Ryan' at the cinema. So cute. Just watch out or you'll be in trouble.-----_  
  
"Well, well, well, lookie what we got here. It seems our boy got some fan mail."  
  
Chedwiggen grabbed the letter from Sam, careful to keep his fingers to the corners so not to disturb any fingerprint traces. "This looks like a child wrote it, Andrew does have four mischievous young nephews."  
  
"A child rarely describes adults as cute. Nope, an adult or a teenager, perhaps, was our author. And I doubt his nephews are perverted little spies." Sam went to the door and beckoned on the young ensign on duty.  
  
The young man dashed into the officer with puppy-dog fervour since he was aware an admiral was involved in this investigation. "Ensign Mitchell, sir!" He saluted at the admiral and stiffly stood at attention.  
  
Sam just raised an eyebrow. "That's cute, Ad. Next time I wanna train my dog I'll just send them to the military." He shrugged innocently when Harm glowered at him. "Okay, Ensign Mitchell, were you good friends with Sinclair? I mean, the two of you were the same age and all."  
  
Mitchell glanced at Chedwiggen, who gave him a nod to confirm he should answer. "Yeah, Andrew and I were friends, I guess. We went out for a drink sometimes or he'd show me things around the office if I ever got stuck."  
  
"Were he and Lieutenant Myers more than just partners?"  
  
He gazed unflinchingly at the younger man shifting his feet uncomfortably. Before Mitchell could find a response, Chedwiggen hollered, "How dare you, how dare you insinuate my godson would participate in an act of fratinization!" Sam noticed Mac winced slightly at this and wondered, at the back of his mind, what was up with her. "Andrew was a great officer who obeyed all the rules and regs, don't dishonour his death by saying otherwise. I won't allow you to."  
  
The federal agent just let the Admiral rant then he sighed. "Admiral, I don't give a damn if you 'allow' me to or not, you are not my superior nor do you have any jurisdiction over my actions. Personally, I don't see the dishonour in carrying a relationship with someone he loves, as long as he kept it from interfering with his working career...Now, the fact of the matter is I don't care if your godson was God's gift to the Navy and was having a relationship with a chimpanzee from the local zoo, his relationship with Susie Myers- whether professional or personal- has relevance as to who murdered him so please allow me to continue with my investigation or I will be forced to go to my AD and have him remove you from assisting with this case."  
  
Chedwiggen glared at Sam Madigan. Gone was the brazen and impudent brat he had come to know in the past twenty-four hours and in his place was a calm and collected FBI agent that reminded him so much of one of his own officers. He wanted to strangle the kid at that moment but he backed down. As much as he wanted to protect Andrew's untainted image, a simple fratinization charge was tolerable if it helped catch the son of a bitch who murdered six Navy officers.  
  
"Good, I'm glad we're on an understanding. Now, Ensign Mitchell, can you please answer the question?"  
  
Mitchell, once realising he would receive no help from the Admiral, looked down at his feet. "Yeah, Andrew and Susie were more than partners." Chedwiggen sighed, looking away. "He and Susie were going out together for about a year."  
  
"How did you know?" Chedwiggen asked of Sam.  
  
"I didn't but now we have to think of the possibility this was a jealous ex who did this. But then you knew too, didn't you?" Chedwiggen looked stunned, that expression more than enough to answer Sam's question. "Yeah, I thought you did."  
  
"How did you know I knew?"  
  
"I could see it in your eyes. You didn't want me to ask Ensign Mitchell that question not because you though Andrew was a good boy but because you didn't want everyone to know the truth...I take it you didn't approve?"  
  
"They were partners, fraternisation compromises lives and endangers innocent people." It was the perfect textbook answer. "No, I didn't approve."  
  
"Well, the next time you know something- whether you 'approve' or not- tell me."  
  
The Ad wasn't too pleased at the idea of taking orders from someone more than thirty years his junior and not even in the Navy but he nodded ever so slightly.  
  
"We'll have to get someone to question the parents and siblings," Kim said, once the surge of anger-induced testosterone between the two men died down. "We should see if there are any other secrets lurking in the background."  
  
Bobbing his head, Sam turned back to Mitchell. "Did many people know about their relationship? People within the office or their Navy friends?"  
  
"Well, yes, I suppose, sir. It wasn't a big secret among the junior ranks."  
  
"Do you know anything about this letter Lieutenant Sinclair was sent?"  
  
Mitchell grinned. "Oh yeah, that came from Andrew's high school friends. They always send something like that every year to the day of graduation. Last year they sent five chickens."  
  
"Chickens? Oka-ay, so where do his friends live, do you know?"  
  
"Well, Andrew came from California so I guess they all went to school there."  
  
"Mmm." Sam held up the letter and the envelope. "Well, this envelope has a Washington post mark."  
  
"The killer?" Harm asked.  
  
The FBI agent shrugged, indeterminately. "Thank you, Ensign Mitchell. If I need to talk you some more I will be in touch...that is if I don't get assassinated."  
******************  
**Autopsy Bay Two  
FBI Field Office, Washington DC  
1250 EST, September 16th**  
The investigation into the serial killings was going quite well then early that morning the bodies of Lieutenants Jayme Wyte and Steven Warner were discovered in an alley by a well known Navy-oriented pub. Both had been killed identical slayings as the first three killings- drugged and stabbed (or perhaps mutilated was a more accurate term) with Warner receiving the brunt of the attack.  
  
Wyte and Warner were lecturers at the academy, both working as a close-knit team to show young cadets what the Navy was about. Jayme Wyte was married to an elementary school teacher and was pregnant with the couple's first child while Steven Warner and his accountant wife had a six-year-old son. The lecturers often went out for a drink after planning the next term's course work like they had been doing the night before though unfortunately that was to be the last time they indulged in that particular habit.  
  
"It's the same person, isn't it?"  
  
Kim had had completed the autopsy and was just finishing off the post mortem of a twenty-four-year-old junkie killed in a gangland torture- conduction of the autopsy was a favour for a fellow agent. Harm and Mac stood by the door of the autopsy bay away from the corpse while her partner stood by the gurney net to her as the four discussed the case.  
  
"Mmmm," mumbled Kim over the ham, lettuce, and tomato sauce sandwich she was scoffing.  
  
The two JAG officers gazed in shock at her. Aah, innocents. Still so squeamish about a little death. It was kind of cute in a weird way. Harm was slightly green while Mac looked as if she didn't know whether to want a piece of the sandwich or to throw up on the spot. In the old days during her first year at med school she had learned to come to terms with the bodies, blood, and gore and soon accepted if one wanted, lunch one would take whatever time available to eat.  
  
Her partner grinned. He had no doubt become used to her eccentric eating.  
  
"She hasn't had lunch...And yes," replied Sam, answering Harm's question. "Kim did the autopsy and confirmed the tranq usage and such though there is definitely more anger this time."  
  
The ferocity of this crime was certainly evident in comparison to the others. Warner was decapitated while Wyte's broad stomach harbouring her unborn child seemed to the target for the UNSUB. Kim had seen many aftermath's to crime scenes and had autopsied many bodies since graduating from the FBI academy yet this act sickened her to the core as it would any sane person. How could anyone attack a woman carrying an innocent child? How could anyone attack another person?  
  
Kim took in the three JAG officer's subdued features. It was a shame they had to cope with such things when it involved on of their own. Unlike she and Sam who dealt with death almost every day, they weren't really used to it, not like this anyway. They expected their colleagues to be lost in war if death was to rear its ugly head...murder was never a possibility. It was not surprising this hit them hard, they hadn't thought they would lose another in such a manner. But did anyone...So many men, women and children had to deal with the death of a loved or befriended one every day because of crime, all she could do was help solve this crime- bringing a piece of scum to justice- before moving onto another.  
  
"What now?" Harm asked, eyeing Sam for advice.  
  
So, the elder cousin now seeking help from the younger of the family. Kim had been partnered with Sam from almost immediately after she graduated from the academy two years ago. They were both young, him just one year her senior. In her case, it was easier for her- doctors were doctors, they cut people up, and so long as they did that, they were fine. But for Sam, he had to earn his respect with difficulty. He had to push himself into the killer's mind to prove the colleagues he wasn't just a little kid. Jenny had mentioned Sam was the youngest of the family until she had the kids and even then, he was still seen as a 'little one'. This case was allowing him to prove to Harm he wasn't a child any longer while having the added bonus of substantiating to Sam the military isn't evil. Hell, it was the least the horror of the crimes could so- bringing two cousins together.  
  
"We search Warner's house for a letter then move on from there. We'll find this asshole, Harm, I can guarantee that to you." The conviction in his voice bolstered everybody's negative thoughts.  
******************  
**JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
1906 EST, September 17th**  
They had spent the previous day looking into the recent murder of Jayme Wyte and Steven Warner. At Sam's suggestion they searched Warner's home and office, finding a threatening letter much like the one Andrew Sinclair received. Sam had wanted to spend some time on his own in the case with his ever-sensitive partner explaining sometimes he profiled easier when alone. At this, the three JAG officers decided to spend the day in their own office finishing up the back-log of work that had built up over their absence.  
  
The headquarters was filtering empty as the day wound to an end. Mac was sitting in her own office putting the finishing touches to the Landell case when she had the urge to check up on her partner.  
  
Though they were sometimes so flippant with one another, on some level she did keep in touch with his feelings as did he with her. Over the last week she was aware he was finding it emotionally taxing discerning with such a important case to both the Navy and to the Admiral while trying to find the time to deal his boisterous and occasionally petulant cousin. One did not need a psychology degree or even to be a telepath to sense both men were rather reluctant to have their 'turf' invaded by the other. Actually, Mac found it quite cute to see two professional, grown adults behaving like teenage boys fighting over the same girl.  
  
"Hey, partner, what are you up to?" she asked, as she pulled a chair up to the desk and sat opposite Harm.  
  
He looked up from the thick, rather worn book he was flicking through. He flashed a grin at Mac then held the book up enough for her to see it was a photograph album.  
  
"Just looking up the old days," he replied.  
  
"Sam bring up a lot of memories, huh?"  
  
"Oh yeah, that's our boy- always bringing out the forgotten."  
  
"Like how you 'forgot' to mention you even had a cousin, at least one that lived so close? And how that cousin also has a brother and sister?"  
  
She managed to keep the hurt from her voice but she still could not help but feel a little upset at the thought. Harm was always so forthcoming when it came to his immediate family- from the almost the beginning she knew about his POW father and his mother now married to the vice- president of Chrysler. Now to find out he had a whole set of family, it was worrying to think he had kept that from her. Sure they weren't married or anything but she was his partner and would have liked to know about those close to him, those who not only knew him as a child but were his flesh and blood.  
  
Harm grinned sheepishly at her. "Oh, well, I guess I try to keep Sammy away from any Navy personnel. He isn't exactly polite in the company of them, as you saw a few times."  
  
"He wasn't bad with me," Mac said, truthfully.  
  
His blue eyes slitted back. "I'll bet...Sam and the others, we're really all close, I suppose. I mean, Nick is like an elder brother to me in many ways and Jenny is my own age and Sam is a bit like the baby brother I never had- we all grew up together. It's just that we all went our separate ways career-wise and plus when it comes to our fathers there's so much disagreement and blame. Since I'm in the Navy, it makes things so much worse. I decided to keep my work separate from my family to avoid arguments and aggravation."  
  
"Do you like working with him? I mean, I know this isn't an ideal way but are things going the way you want?"  
  
Harm thought about her question for a moment. "It's educating for us both. I guess I always thought he was a child, even when he went off and joined the Bureau. It's weird seeing him be an adult...though he does have his moments. I'm glad I can show him, we can show him the Navy isn't so bad. He'll never completely accept it but this is the start I never imagined I'd have. I doubt there'll be anymore Christmas or Thanksgiving arguments about how the Navy are self-absorbed and couldn't live in the real world, outside of a base, for one day. I never thought of a way I could show him that...until now."  
  
"Do you regret my meeting Sam?" She was genuinely interested.  
  
"At first, but now I see it was time for you to meet them. And the next time Jenny or Nick are in town, I'll introduce them to you."  
  
Mac felt a warmth well within her. It felt so good to have Harm's trust in her verified, she always knew she trusted her but to have him say it aloud made it so much more valuable. She wanted to build on that trust.  
  
"Where are Sam and Kim right now?" she asked.  
  
"It's only seven o'clock, they're probably down at their office. Sam's works late when he's doing a profile."  
  
"How about we get a Chinese then go see them?"  
  
Harm hesitated for a moment then grinned. "Okay, that sounds good."  
  
They stood up just as Tiner entered the room carrying a batch of paperwork. He handed it to Harm.  
  
"Just your mail from the day, sir," he said with a smile.  
  
"Thanks, Tiner," Harm replied, placing the mail on his desk.  
  
"Going home?"  
  
"No, the Major and I are going out to have something to eat. Care for anything?"  
  
"No, thanks, I ate with Bud earlier. Have a good meal, sir."  
  
"Will do."  
  
Harm motioned for Mac to lead the way and the pair exited the office allowing the janitor to begin his nightly his cleaning of the room.  
***************************  
**Sam Madigan's Apartment, Washington DC  
0249 EST, September 18th**  
The joint FBI and Navy team had spent the previous day chasing up any and all leads relating to all eight victims, Sam now working under the definite hypothesis the first four victims were murdered by the same UNSUB as the last four victims.  
  
As tough as he tried to act at times, Sam Madigan was not always comfortable with his 'gift' of squirming his way into the minds of killers to catch them. It was a scary job which in a couple of years time he would make damn well sure he would give up for something a little less invasive.  
  
Like his cousin, he too tried to keep his work life separate from his private life so he knew Harm didn't really understand what he was making Sam do as he pressurised the younger man into working at a slightly faster pace. Harm possibly thought that his job was much like a lawyer's where one just went around asking different witnesses and suspects' questions. He didn't realise Sam had to study, become one, with the evidence as he melded with the UNSUB's mind.  
  
"Sam, it's almost three o'clock," Kim pointed out, breaking his reverie, "you need to get some rest. You've been at this all day,"  
  
"I just need to get a little more done," he said, not taking his eyes from his notebook. "You should go home and get some rest, Kim. Harm and the others will be back tomorrow and we'll probably be quite busy, rest while you can."  
  
Kim just smiled at him. "I'm fine, partner, I'll stick around for a while and keep you company."  
  
Half an hour later, Sam looked up to find his partner conked out on the couch. He grinned at her, reaching for a thick tartan rug and covering her with it. He sank back into the sofa, keeping watch over Kim with a faint smile. Putting up his feet on the coffee table, he decided it was finally time to call it a night. He was exhausted.  
  
Even as Sam drifted off to sleep, the preliminary profile he had created whirled around in his ever-the-FBI-agent mind. So far, he had concluded the UNSUB obviously felt some kind of condemnation to the victims, more so to the male than the female though he did give the male victims the sedative indicting some degree of pity so as the man would not suffer whereas the female was given arsenic- a rather nasty toxin. The fact that all eight victims were in the Navy obviously held a great importance, perhaps whoever the UNSUB saw in the victims were in the Navy. The partnership thing was also of significance, despite the second pair of victims and the last pair not being anything more than best friends. There was so much more rage in the last murders, especially to the female and her unborn child. Something in the last double murder struck a cord with the UNSUB and that held the key as to the identity of the killer.  
  
Of all the things he was certain about in his profile was the fact that the killer was filled with rage and anger at who he perceived to be the enemy, namely the Navy, and he would be compelled to kill again...soon.  
  
********************************  
**Harmon Rabb's Apartment, Washington DC  
0815 EST, September 20th**  
The preceding day had been tiring for all but they had collected so much significant material. Chedwiggen and Harm had both travelled to California to speak with Sinclair's associates. The Ad had taken on the responsibility to question his godson's family on previous relationships the young man might have had and Mac interrogated Lieutenant Myers' family up in Baltimore before making her way to New York to talk to the relatives of two previous victims. Harm had got in touch with Sinclair's former school friends and was able to corroborate that none of them had sent the letter to Sinclair (they had in actual fact sent the officer ten kilos of fresh manure).  
  
Meanwhile Sam and Kim stayed in DC as they questioned the families and friends of Wyte and Warner. Kim also took the time to go over the data and evidence collected from the autopsies performed on the first four supposed victims while Sam contemplated the last murders which he felt was the most important.  
  
Harm had returned from California around eight o'clock last night where he checked in at the office before grabbing a bite to eat with Mac. They had discussed many things but mainly focused on the case, Mac knew he disappointed for the lack of clues he and the admiral had found. Whoever murdered Andrew, his partner, and six other Naval was certainly not his rather immature but innocuous friends considering the majority of the little group of former classmates had the IQ of toast and could barely get away with jay-walking let alone serial murder.  
  
Swallowing down a bagel and a cup of coffee, Harm grabbed the keys to his car hoping that Mac, Sam, and Kim had more luck with their investigation angles. Just as he was about to leave, he snatched his mail from the floor by the door, flinging the bundle into the corvette before speeding off to the Headquarters.  
  
On the way to the office, Harm managed to grab a copy of the local newspaper and winced when he saw in bold print on the front page: Navy Slayer Thought To Have Killed Officers. Great, now that the press had got wind of the situation they would have to be careful who they talked to for fear of leaking any evidence or suspects they accumulated.  
  
"Have you seen the papers today?" Mac asked, as he entered the office.  
  
"Papers? How many is it in?"  
  
Lieutenant Bud Roberts answered. "All of them, sir." Bud held up a bundle of newspaper ranging from the New York Times to the US Today.  
  
The younger man was shaping up to the day he too would join them in the court room as a lawyer and he was obviously putting quite some effort into assisting his senior officers with this case. These murders were the first serial killings involving Navy officers that Bud had dealt with, hell, it was the first for Harm and Mac too so needless to say Roberts was bordering on both puppy-dog enthusiasm and a touch of fear. Though chronologically Bud was a couple of years older than Sam, he seemed years younger. This case did not faze Sam in the least as it had Bud. Harm wondered if that was a good thing or not.  
  
"Will you be meeting with the FBI agents today, sir?" Bud asked, interrupting Harm's thoughts. The young officer wanted to be more involved in the case and meeting the FBI agents was a step in that direction.  
  
"Hey, Bud," Mac said with a slightly childish grin, "did you know that one of the Feds is the commander's cousin?"  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Who's the commander's cousin?" asked a new voice that belonged to Bud's wife and fellow officer, Harriet Simms.  
  
Since Harm and Mac were hardly ever in the office since investigating the murders and when they were it was so late that Bud and Harriet had retired for home it was not surprising they had not heard of Harm's little 'connection' to the FBI.  
  
Of course, Mac took great pleasure in informing everyone they met. "Yeah, Special Agent Samuel Madigan is Harm's baby cousin. We'll have to make sure you meet him, they share so many traits, the two of them do."  
  
"You didn't mention you had a cousin that lived in Washington, sir," Harriet said. As much as he liked Harriet, Harm wondered if the young blond was in the wrong profession, she should have gone into psychology- where she could probably squeeze blood from a stone- or applied to write the gossip column in the newspapers.  
  
"Yeah, Hamie." That goddamn nickname, he would killed Sam before this case was out for telling Mac it and he would kill Mac for indulging in it. "Why didn't you mention it?"  
  
As she teased, Harm leafed through his personal mail. Suddenly he stiffened when he read the writing on a pink envelope. In a stunned voice, he held the letter up to Mac. "I think that's the least of our concerns, Mac." In his hand was the familiar typed text, familiar only because it was the same used in the killings of eight Navy officers.  
  
"Oh shit," murmured Mac.  
  
Oh shit was correct.  
  
*************************  
**FBI Building, Washington DC  
1008 EST, September 20th**  
"This isn't good, Hamie."  
  
Harm rolled his eyes. If there was one certainty in life, it was that Sam Madigan had a gift for understatement. Thankfully, his gift for profiling and investigating balanced his annoying talent for stating the obvious.  
  
Just fifteen minutes after Harm, Mac and the Admiral had driven over the J. Edgar Hoover Building, Sam had the letter sent down to the labs while he examined a copy of it. In the same infantile writing as the letter sent to Andrew Sinclair, this note stated:  
  
_-----I saw you both going for a Italian dinner last night. I know you're like the others, I've watched you both together. So cute. Just watch out or you'll be in trouble.-----_  
  
"It ends in the same way as the Sinclair letter and the Warner," Sam noticed. He turned an expectant eye to Harm and Mac. "Well, is it true? Did you have dinner together?"  
  
Harm coloured slightly, clearing his voice. "Eh, yeah but it was purely platonic." He was just glad that the Admiral had gone off to discuss this latest development with AD Lawson.  
  
Sam glanced at the pair with a faint smile. "Sure, Harm."  
  
"The UNSUB is watching them," Kim said, calmly. Both Harm and Mac paled at this. "Though the letter is addressed to Harm, it's clear the content is a warning to the both of them."  
  
"Both of us?" Mac asked. She had already been stalked and that experience was more than enough.  
  
"Yes, the UNSUB seems to have a fixation on partner teams so even though the letter, like Sinclair's, was addressed to the male of your partnership, it is clear both of you are in danger."  
  
Harm mulled over this. "Then why don't we just separate for a while? Transfer one of us to Hawaii and the other to Florida or something. Would that not solve it?"  
  
"Perhaps, but the thing is the killer could follow and could strike with them not expecting it. Or the killer could quite simply choose another set of targets. No, this is actually a good thing."  
  
"Yeah," muttered Harm, "being stalked by a psycho is just a wonderful event in one's life."  
  
Sam grinned dryly. "A little excitement never did anyone any harm- well, with the exception of the victims. Anyway, contrary to what you think, this is good. Now we know who the UNSUB has his eye on we can watch you and what until he makes his next move."  
  
"Like bait?" Mac asked.  
  
"Yeah, like bait. From the postal mark on Sinclair's little fan mail, he received the letter four days prior to his murder and this could've arrived on the nineteenth- the killer must be close to hand deliver this fan mail- so we can estimate we have three to four days to find the killer before we have to plan other two funerals." Mac and Harm just glowered at the young agent as he stated his conclusion like he were discussing the football scores.  
  
"I see you still have your wonderful way for words," Harm said, sarcastically.  
  
Before an argument could escalate, AD Lawson strode in followed by Admiral Chedwiggen. Lawson had been keeping a very close eye on this case since it was not only of vast media interest but one the first cases involving a joint FBI and Navy investigation. As a former Marine during the Vietnam war, it was important to him that this partnership work as he felt muted loyalties to the military. Not to mention he could feel the relationship between his agent and Harm Rabb strain slightly and he knew better than to tempt fate (murders committed by family members made up two thirds of the homicide statistics). Besides which the case was turning personal for Sam Madigan after the recent turn of events.  
  
"The Admiral has discussed this with us and I take it you two have come to the conclusion that the letter is relevant to both the Commander and the Major."  
  
"Yes, sir," replied Kim.  
  
"Okay, so what do you think if I separate Commander Rabb and Major Mackenzie? Put a lot of distance between them?" quizzed Chedwiggen.  
  
"The killer would either just follow them or set their eyes on someone else," Sam reiterated from the previous conversation with his cousin.  
  
"So what do you have in mind then, Sam?" Lawson asked.  
  
"I guess put them into protective custody or stake them out- watch them until our UNSUB strikes."  
  
"In that case, I think this calls for a little undercover work."  
  
"What?!" Sam's head jerked at this. His blue eyes darkened with suspicion. "What exactly do you mean by 'undercover work', sir?"  
  
"I mean that you and Agent Adair will go undercover as Navy officers and keep up that façade until you catch this killer."  
  
"But, sir-" whined both Kim and Sam simultaneously.  
  
"Look, this is the way it's going to work, Agents, so save the moans for your new commander, Admiral Chedwiggen."  
  
"Sir, we don't look anything like Navy," complained Sam.  
  
"Look? What do you mean by that?" asked Harm, almost dreading the answer.  
  
"You just have this look about you," shrugged the FBI agent.  
  
Kim nodded in agreement but Lawson just rolled his eyes. "I've taken the courtesy of having Jack get you uniforms then you'll go back with them to the JAG headquarters and play Navy like good little agents until you have this case wrapped up or until I deem otherwise. As of now, you are Lieutenants Sam Carter and Kim Walsh."  
  
"We're just lieutenants?" Sam wailed indignantly. He glared at Harm. "How come he gets to be a lieutenant commander and I'm just a lieutenant?"  
  
"Because I'm the actual Navy officer here," replied Harm, patiently as if talking to a dim child.  
  
"Yeah, well, I don't care. Nicky always said that everyone above the rank of lieutenant was a-"  
  
"Sam," Kim cut in before World War Three broke out, "let's go check out our uniforms." She dragged her protesting partner away as the others just exchanged looks.  
  
"I do have to say, AJ," said Lawson, "you have an interesting assignment ahead of you."  
  
"What do you mean, David?"  
  
"Well, I know you were a former SEAL and was in 'Nam but after experience as a elementary school teacher and a lion tamer might have been more useful if you're going to deal with our two tornadoes."  
  
Half an hour later, amused laughter and childish teasing could be heard throughout the bull-pen and the three Navy officers and the Assistant Director turned to see the source of the witticisms. Dolefully, like boisterous kids forced to keep their Sunday best clean, Sam and Kim approached the group wearing their Navy uniforms. They looked disgusted and uncomfortable at their attire with Sam continually pulling at his collar and glared daggers at his plain tie. The agents preferred the freedom of choosing their own clothes- Sam favouring Armani and ties festooned with cartoon characters. Now they felt like clones- irate, aggravated clones but clones nonetheless.  
  
"Aah, don't they look so adorable," called one agent.  
  
"Yeah, they remind me of the little kiddies at my brother's wedding all dressed in little sailor suits," grinned another.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," muttered Sam. "Have your fun."  
  
Lawson, hiding his own smile, gazed at the pair. "You look like military personnel even if you don't like it. Not bad, kids."  
  
"Not bad, look at this boring black tie. It looks like what you'd wear to a funeral."  
  
Lawson just sighed at his agents. "Now I want you to be do this properly. If the UNSUB is watching he'll be watching you too and he'll know if you're just Feds playing GI Joe. You do know to call senior officers 'sir' or 'ma'am' and such."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm not calling him 'sir'" muttered Sam, pointing at Harm.  
  
"I don't mind that, just address me as 'Commander'." Harm smiled triumphantly. "And this means you can't call me Hamie over the next few days."  
  
Sam scowled in disappointment but brightened up immediately, when Mac grinned gleefully back to her partner. "But I can," she said, in impish humour enjoying his face fall.  
  
"Just you be pleased they're not doctors, you could be stuck in a hospital for the next few days."  
  
"If they were doctors I wouldn't be standing here, I have a deep allergy to doctors and hospitals."  
  
"Anyway, sir," Kim said, "it would be too risky to put Sammy in a hospital. He'd probably start World War Three in the peace and quiet of the ICU. He couldn't go one week without shooting someone."  
  
"Hey, at least I didn't get knocked down then go to hospital only to have the damn place be hijack, huh no, Hamie?"  
  
Harm coloured and Kim snorted. "I see your 'luck' runs in the family."  
  
The Navy officers turned to leave with the two newly acclaimed 'officers' when Lawson called his agents.  
  
"Try not to kill anyone or irreparably damage any property," he warned.  
  
Kim and Sam just shared an amused grin. "Hey, you know us, sir."  
  
Chedwiggen moaned inwardly, wondering just what he had let himself in for. Surely two FBI agents couldn't be that bad but judging from the commiseration and pity on Lawson's face he started to grow apprehensive.  
  
*****************************  
JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
1303 EST, September 20th**  
"So where do you keep them?"  
  
So far, Sam had remained quiet, deliberating over another case with Kim, but now they had reached the JAG Headquarters he was all eyes and ears. Harm had been silently dreading how his cousin would behave in a military installation, God only knew the kid was not an epitome of courteousness to the upper ranks. Luckily, the office was fairly empty with most out to lunch so Harm could answer any crazed or warped questions in private before the 'fun' of introducing Sam and Kim began.  
  
"Keep what?" Harm asked.  
  
"The files," Sam replied slowly as if Harm were retarded.  
  
Harm scowled in confusion but indicted to the filing cabinets. "In there of course, though some are kept in our offices or on computer."  
  
"You just leave top secret files lying around. No wonder Fortean Times and Sightings knows so much about what's going on. What about Area 51 then? What's kept there?"  
  
The realisation as to what Sam was so interested in hit the three officers precipitating different reactions: Mac smirked, the Admiral rolled his eyes, and Harm groaned. He knew Sam was suspicious about the military but this was ridiculous. He could see Mac was having a field day watching the rational Harm dealing with the believer in Sam.  
  
"I assure you, son," said the Admiral, "we have not files relating to the mythical Area 51 nor have we ever had any files."  
  
Sam did not look convinced. "Yeah, I bet you got to admiral just preaching that to people. Nope, I know the truth about you guys and the existence of extraterrestrial life on our planet."  
  
"Sam," sighed Harm, "there's no such thing as Area 51, there are no aliens or military conspiracy, we have no 'top secret' files about little green men."  
  
"Grey," interjected Kim.  
  
"What?" Mac asked.  
  
"The aliens, despite popular theory they aren't green, their skin pigmentation is grey."  
  
Harm's jaw just dropped. "I thought you were a doctor, I thought you'd be more scientific about Sam's little theories."  
  
"Science is over-rated. Besides, we live in a vast universe made of millions of galaxies and perhaps, billions of planets. It is a little presumptuous not to mention irrational to think we would be the only life out there."  
  
Mac grinned. "Well said, Kim. Don't you agree, Harm?"  
  
"Hhhmm, just try not make a pest of yourself asking these questions to other people," Harm requested firmly.  
  
Chedwiggen turned to head for his office. "Just you two try your best to fit in."  
  
"Hey, you know us, or at least you're starting to, Ad."  
  
"That's exactly what I'm worried about, son." Chedwiggen had come to accept Sam's brazen nickname but as mild revenge he continued to call the younger man 'son' fully aware of how the agent hated his peers emphasising his young age. "Commander, Major, I'll let you handle any introductions and babysitting. Just try to make them behave."  
  
"Yes, sir," said the JAG officers. Forget Russian spies and obsessive ex-boyfriends, this was their hardest mission yet.  
  
Just then, Bud and Harriet strolled into the office from lunch. The married couple were easy-going and friendly, walking over to welcome to the two new officers Harm, Mac and the Admiral were talking with. They hadn't been informed of new staff joining the team but they were eager to greet the new officers.  
  
Of course, Harm saw Bud and Harriet as the perfect introduction to Navy life. He semi-trusted Kim but he wanted to trial Sam to monitor how he behaved before he let the young agent loose in the office.  
  
"Hi, Bud, Harriet, how was lunch?"  
  
"Good, sir," Bud said.  
  
"We went shopping," bubbled Harriet, "and found this crib for the baby. I know I'm only three weeks along but it was so cute we couldn't resist."  
  
"You two are pregnant? Is that allowed? The Navy's real strict, I thought they shot you for having inter-office relationships."  
  
Harm just glared at Sam, who stared back innocently. For a federal agent and a psychologist, Sam could come with the most idiotic garbage. Oh no, baby cousin, the Navy shoots brats who say the stupidest of crap that comes out of their mouths, he thought. What he said was, "This is Bud Roberts and Harriet Simms, please meet Lieutenants Sam Carter and Kim Walsh. They just started here today after transferring from San Diego."  
  
"Yo-", Sam glanced at their sleeve ribbons then mussed thoughtfully as he tried to recall what ranking the ribbons signified, "Lieutenant, Ensign."  
  
"Please to meet you," smiled Kim, making up for her partner's totally undignified greeting.  
  
"Sam, the Navy does not shoot officers having a relationship." Just as well for Mac's sake. "They try to work it out. Besides, Bud and Harriet are married and will soon have their first child."  
  
"Really, how cool for you." Sam graced them with a dazzling smile. "It's good to see fellow officers marrying and settling down." At this, he shot Harm a glare.  
  
Sam was still pissed off his attempts to set Harm up with his friend's sister did not work though the Harm had the distinct impression the only reason Sam wanted it to work was because the sister owned a toy store and he wanted the toy vouchers (sometimes Harm worried for Sam's mental health). Still, Harm would rather have dated the sister to please Sam than put up with the satisfied grin his cousin had whenever him with a certain Marine major (seemingly, it was okay for him and Kim to be 'just friends' but Harm had past some magical point where he and Mac were considered to be virtually husband and wife).  
  
"So," started Kim, "have you been stationed here long?"  
  
"I've been here nearly two years," responded Harriet, cheery to have new faces in the office. "Bud has been here almost four- we met when we were working on the same case."  
  
"Oh yeah? So you two lawyers too? I seem to be surrounded by lawyers in this place. Does no-one here do anything else?" Bud and Harriet looked incredulous while Mac and Kim hid smiles.  
  
Harm could have throttled Sam before he put his foot in it again. He knew Sam wasn't exactly clued-up on Navy jargon but this was ridiculous. God, he had spent enough time explaining the function of JAG to Sam both prior to and after actually joining the unit. Of course, his cousin was the epitome of selective concentration and, for all his MENSA level IQ, he no doubt tuned out Harm's talks. He was beginning to seriously worry whose cousin Sam really was- his or Mac's.  
  
"Sam, this is the JAG corps," Harm said, slowly as if talking to a dense child, "it is the Naval lawyer unit, if you want."  
  
"Yeah, I knew that. I guess I must have missed that lecture at the academy...So what do you- we do all day? Just sit around filling out boring files and sitting in court? That's kinda sucky, don't ya think, Ham- Commander?"  
  
Kim groaned inwardly. Her partner could be so sweet and caring one moment but then next he could be an utter pain-in-the-ass. The deliberately pestering way he was talking to Harm was an example of such a moment, had he really been in the Navy he would have up to his ass in insubordination charges...and he knew it. Sam was just testing how far he could push the big-brother figure Harm was to him (spending half her life with a shrink she had learned enough to pick behaviour patterns) since his cousin couldn't do anything drastically career damaging to him. Kim just hoped Sam found a way to re-direct his attentions; Harm may not be able to charge insubordination charges but he sure as hell could murder a specific kid cousin.  
  
"Shut up, Lieutenant," Harm ordered.  
  
Sam just rolled his eyes and smiled at the thoroughly confused Bud and Harriet. "I take it the Ad...miral was right and there are no files here, huh?"  
  
"Files?" Bud asked.  
  
Oh God, kill me now, thought Harm, pleading to the Heavens. Kill me before I kill him.  
  
"Yeah, the files about Roswell and Area 51."  
  
Bud grinned. "Oh, so you're into that stuff too? Great! Oh, and that kind of files isn't kept here." Harm smiled smugly at Sam. "It's kept in the Pentagon and it probably under the Army's supervision. They're the ones who conceal all of the alien landings."  
  
Harm's jaw dropped to the floor as Sam smiled enthusiastically at his new friend. "Yeah, you're right there. You know the FBI has a department which investigates all this conspiracy, unexplained stuff. The agents in charge came to that conclusion about the Army's involvement, very interesting read...not that I would know."  
  
Sam and Kim sank into their adjacent desks, not far from where Bud and Harriet worked, the four barely noticing Mac and Harm retreat into his office.  
  
Harm watched Sam and Kim chat away to Bud and Harriet, catching snatches of their conversation as they discussed the possibility of life on other planets (Bud said there was alien life out there, Sam claimed the military knew there was and was hiding all evidence). He could not help but notice the difference between the two pairs of partners.  
  
Sam and Kim seemed so much older than the Navy couple at times, both had finished university and were already settle into their careers and both seemed relaxed with their work- Harm found it difficult to imagine Bud and Harriet so easily going undercover and lying to everyone they met. However, in other ways, Bud and his wife were slightly more mature. They had settled into their social/personal lives with ease and were now happily married and ready to start a family while he didn't think Sam had even considered long-term commitment let alone marriage. Harm also doubted if Bud would jump out of a car gong 60 miles per hour because 'it was a cool thing to do' just as he doubted if Harriet could calmly tuck into a ham, lettuce and tomato sauce sandwich while conducting an autopsy.  
  
"Don't worry, Harm," Mac assured, "he is an FBI agent. He's just toying with, he won't really blow his and Kim's cover. You should know him better than that. He'll be fine."  
  
"It's not him I'm worrying about, it's the rest of us."  
  
************************  
"So where did you transfer from?" Harriet asked.  
  
Kim exchanged a look with her partner whose eyebrow was raised ever so slightly. "Eh, we were in Texas," she replied. Her auntie was in the Navy, assigned to a base in Texas and she just prayed it was still there.  
  
"Are you lawyers too?" Bud asked.  
  
"I guess you could say that," Kim answered. It was sort of true- they knew almost everything there was to know about criminal law they could be lawyers in a civilian court. "We're more consultants if you wish to be accurate."  
  
Bud frowned, as if to question her further so Sam changed the conversation onto a track he knew would interest them. "So how long have you two been married?"  
  
The couple grinned at each other. "Oh, nearly a year," gushed Harriet. "We met on a case and it just took off from there." She babbled on about her wedding ceremony and the church.  
  
She, as Sam had assumed correctly, loved to talk about her husband and their marriage. Kim shook her head inwardly, he was such a shrink sometimes. However, from the way her partner's head was tilted slightly she could tell he was actually listening to the conversation which was odd since his interest in such matters usually did not exceed more than a minute.   
  
"Harm was Bud's best man," finished Harriet.  
  
"I bet he was cute in his dress whites." It was true, Harm was good-looking- a kind of older version of her partner, but she wasn't going to let that bit slip out to Sam.  
  
"He did," Harriet agreed.  
  
The men didn't seem to like this particular conversation. "So, you're having a kid?" Sam quickly asked.  
  
"Yes, our first...I'm only four weeks along but I'm so excited."  
  
"Mmm, cool. Perfect targets yet why weren't you two targeted?"  
  
"Targeted?" repeated Harriet squeakily. "What do you mean? Are you talking about those terrible murders?"  
  
For a psychologist Sam could be such a bonehead. God, and now Harriet had latched onto his train of thought. Poor woman, she was pregnant, this was the last thing she needed. Not to mention her husband looked to be deciding between comforting his wife or committing a federal crime of murdering an FBI agent. Sam had a flare for pissing people off though she had yet to work out if it were intentional.  
  
"He's just thinking," reassured Kim, quickly. "The partner thread in all the cases. If you think like that then we're all targets- Harm and Mac- I mean Commander Rabb and Major Mackenzie, you and Harriet, Sam and I...isn't that right, Sammy?"  
  
Sam grinned widely. "Yeah, sure, we're all targets."  
  
Bud just nodded, not quite convinced. "What do you think about these murders? They're so terrible, aren't they? I wish the FBI would spend more time on tracking down who did this, more people should be put on this case before any more officers are killed."  
  
At this, Sam's eyes slitted back. Kim winced at her smouldering partner. He may not be the epitome of federal decorum but he was an FBI agent and was willing to stand up for the Bureau if he saw fit. "Hey, all murders are terrible and I'm sorry those guys had to die but the FBI has a lot more on their plate than these murders. Little kids are being slaughtered out there, preyed on by monsters the FBI have to find. So, no, they can't put more people on this one case and if more officers are killed then so be it if it save one more child from being the victim of murder or molestation..." He trailed off at the gapes of Harriet and Bud.  
  
He knew he had gone a little over board in his rebuke but damn, these people were so wrapped up in their little lives on their little world of Navy they forgot what went on in the real world sometimes. Harm was like that at times and it bugged the hell out of him, especially since he heard the truth from Sam himself during Christmas dinner. He knew Bud was just upset at seeing so many senseless deaths, especially since they hit so close to home.  
  
Harriet's stricken face made him feel like hell so he smiled, apologetically. "Sorry, I got kinda carried away, I guess...It's just this isn't the only case the Feds probably have to deal with and we shouldn't forget that."  
  
"I see this bothers you too," Harriet said, accepting his apology. "Particularly when it comes to kids."  
  
"Yeah, you'd have to be a real bast- bad person for it not to hit you."  
  
The young blond ensign stroked her stomach. "I agree, it's good to know there are officers who don't forget the child victims out there. It's reassuring, especially now that we're bringing our child into the world soon..."  
  
She chattered on about babies and how dangerous the world was. Pregnancy and hormones, go figure. At least her conversation was vaguely interesting, when his sister was pregnant all she prattled on about was medications and childhood diseases. He was surprised the twins weren't junior hypochondriacs now.  
  
Then another man approached them, handing Bud a folder. "That's the O'Malley file, the Admiral sent it for you."  
  
"Thanks, Tiner," Bud said.  
  
The man was dressed in a sailor suit and Sam suddenly realised this was the prime example of the saying, 'there was always someone worse off than you.' God, imagine having to wear that, the guys at the office would have laughed him all the way to the Moon and back.  
  
"Oh, Sam, Kim, this is Petty Officer Tiner- he's the Admiral's yeoman."  
  
Sam was just about to ask what a yeoman was, his curiosity superseding his duty as an undercover agent when he received an e-mail from Kim via their lap-tops explaining the rank and conditions to him. Though it was he who had half his family members in the military, it was Kim who was the more knowledgeable when it came to Navy info- her favourite Auntie Darla was some kind of hot-shot captain. Now according to his ever-knowing partner, this poor sailor guy was some sort of aide/servant/slave to the Ad. Poor guy...just as well he pushed Harm to ensure he wouldn't have to spend these few days of undercover hell as some kind of skivvy. But why would this Tiner voluntarily do this?  
  
"Hey, are you really the Ad...miral's serv-"  
  
"The Admiral seems like a very honourable man," Kim quickly interjected, before Sam could finish his question much to his chagrin.  
  
Now it was Tiner's turn to harp on, this time about how wonderful his commanding officer was. As he spoke, Sam e-mailed his partner in bold letters to express his anger at being cut off:  
  
To: k.d.adair@sa.fbi.net  
From: s.j.madigan@sa.fbi.net  
Message: **WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR??? I WAS JUST GOING TO ASK HIM A LITTLE QUESTION**  
  
Kim glowered at him when a split-second later, she received his rebuke. She rolled his eyes and replied:  
  
To: s.j.madigan@sa.fbi.net  
From: k.d.adair@sa.fbi.net  
Message: I know your type of 'question'! Be a nice little boy and don't go making trouble.  
  
He scowled at her sweet smile. Bud, Harriet and Tiner knew something had passed between the pair but were not sure what exactly.  
  
Tiner was frowning in puzzlement but he smiled at Harriet. "How are you doing, ma'am?"  
  
"Oh, I'm feeling fine." She patted her stomach. "It will be a few weeks before this little one makes their presence known."  
  
"When will he be due?"  
  
"Oh not for some time yet. The doctors say about July."  
  
"You must be very excited," enthused Tiner. Sam almost snorted, the guy sounded like he was the one who wanted a baby.  
  
"Yes, both Bud and I are." She exchanged a huge grin with her husband.  
  
Needing a caffeine fix before he was overcome by this sweetness, Sam trudged over to the coffee machine to indulge in his only vice (well, his only vice if one excluded the candy bars and his love of shooting bad guys). As he returned to his desk a dour-faced, greying man in full uniform marched into the office. Tiner, Bud and Harriet immediately stood to attention, a split second later mimicked by Kim. Sam just rolled his eyes, still clutching his coffee.  
  
The man stood, glaring, in front of him. Sam had not spent five years in university not to know when someone was trying to intimidate him. Unfortunately, this sod- whose face could curdle the milk in his coffee- was unaware he was dealing with a trained FBI agent that passed his time tracking down too many psychos and maniacs to be daunted by an old man.  
  
"Hi," Sam said, tossing a smile in for free. The old man just glowered, his facial muscles probably unable to manipulate a smile.  
  
"Do you not know the proper way to deal with a senior officer, Lieutenant?!" bellowed the man.  
  
Yeah, shoot them. But, no, he promised Kim he wouldn't shoot any of these Navy guys unless it was the killer. He sincerely hoped this ageing bag was the killer just to shove a bullet up his pompous ass.  
  
Quickly counting the old man's stripes on his lovely white uniform (a nice crimson red would go beautifully with that white), he concluded he was a full admiral thus making this guy outrank his old friend, Ad Chedwiggen. God, who the hell promoted these people?! And from his name badge Sam found out, he was addressing Admiral Adrian Loxton.  
  
"Yeah, hi, Admiral," replied Sam. Uncover assignment be damned, he wasn't going be walked over by someone old enough to be committed to the geriatrics unit.  
  
Just then, Harm, Mac, and the Ad stepped out of their respective offices to see what the commotion was all about. They were joined by a few curious on-lookers. Great, fans...Whereas the Ad looked to be wondering who to be scared for him or dear Admiral Loxton, Harm appeared on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The guy needed to loosen up, the way he was heading he was a prime example of an ulcer-to-be.  
  
"Lieutenant!" glared Chedwiggen. "Address the admiral in a proper manner."  
  
Or what? They couldn't do anything and that thought was quite exhilarating. He could see Kim hide her disapproval behind rigid posture, she knew exactly how he thought and how he enjoyed messing with people. But since the Ad and Hamie looked as if they were about to go into cardiac arrest, Sam decided to give in just this once.  
  
"Sorry, sir," he said, drawing himself to attention (God, if this was the way these people had to perpetually stand no wonder half of them retired due to ill-health. This was back-breaking).  
  
"What is your name, Lieutenant?!" barked Loxton.  
  
Sam was about to retort he had been warned from an early age not to talk to strangers and nothing came more stranger than this guy but he bit back his tongue. What was the point in these daft questions though? Couldn't the guy read his name tag on his uniform? Nope, Loxton was trying to play with his mind with this attempt at intimidation, it was just a shame he didn't know that the clinical psychologist in Sam could tell exactly what he was doing.  
  
"Lieutenant Sam Carter, sir." He replied in such a tone that was both respectful but informed Loxton he wasn't scared.  
  
"Don't you know how to present yourself to a senior officer, Lieutenant. I should have your commission for this, boy!"  
  
"You must excuse me but I'm ill." Harm spluttered while Kim raised her eyebrow imperceptibly "I have an illness called ADHD- Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. It causes me not sometimes forget my manners, I'm ever so sorry. And please, sir, do not call me 'boy', I am not a child and as a lawyer yourself that should be obvious since a child is defined as a minor under eighteen years of age and I am not under eighteen years old. I just thought I'd point that out, wouldn't want you to make that mistake again."  
  
Loxton went a strange purple-red colour and Sam almost thought he had killed the old man. Chedwiggen intervened before he did precipitate a heart attack or stroke.  
  
"Sir, perhaps we could talk in my office," he offered.  
  
"No, Chedwiggen, I am here not to be insulted by your staff but to demand why you have not found that killer. Two other good officers have died at the hands of this maniac and the press are having a field day. I had to spend half an hour telling them we had things under control. We are not looking good in this, these murders are doing damage to the reputation of the Navy." Sam should have guessed, this wasn't an admiral, this guy was a bureaucrat. "I want to know what you are doing!"  
  
"Sir, we have two federal agents that are working with us on this case, we are making progress and I can assure you we are doing our best to find this killer." It pleased Sam to see Chedwiggen becoming increasingly enraged by this man. The Ad did care for those officers unlike Loxton who only seemed concerned how the media was viewing the situation.  
  
"Well, get those damned agents to works harder, man!"  
  
Before Sam could issue a retort, Chedwiggen quickly said, "They're working as hard they could and as are we."  
  
"Look, Chedwiggen, I have a banquet next week with the president and I don't want this embarrassment hanging over me. Work harder! I don't care if you have to go alone and break goddamn federal law, find this killer."  
  
With that, he stalked out leaving the JAG office hushed in his wake. Everyone from yeoman's to the Admiral were stunned into silence. That was until Sam spoke pointedly.  
  
"What an asshole!" Everyone gasped, and he grinned sheepishly. "That was meant as a metaphorical compliment."  
  
Chedwiggen bit back a grin. "Yes, well, get back to work, people. You too, Lieutenant."  
  
"Aye, sir." Sam smiled back at the older man he was starting to respect increasingly as time went on.  
  
"ADHD?" Kim whispered to her partner in dryly. "Cute, Sammy, very cute."  
  
"Hey, I'm a shrink, I should be allowed to use some of my long, hard years of study to get myself out of trouble."  
  
Kim just shook her head. Sam would have to remind her of her reaction the next time she wrote up a medical certificate to get out of a boring conference or dull case.  
  
*****************************  
JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
2245 EST, September 20th**  
"So, Sailor, how do you think our first day went with 'Lieutenants' Sam and Kim?"  
  
Harm was slouched in his chair with his head resting, cradled in his arms, on the desk exhausted more from stress than actual work. He looked at his partner and sighed.  
  
Mac grinned. "Well, it could have been worse...and look on the bright side, he did put Loxton in his place." Actually, it was so amusing watching the flesh and blood of the Navy's Ideal Officer taking the most pretentious and arrogant admiral in the fleet down a few notches.   
  
Harm groaned. "He's gonna kill by the time this case is out."  
  
"Where are Wonder Boy and Girl now?"  
  
"Off getting some take-out, he's decided the four of us are staying here late to work on the case. Apparently, they can't work as well with Harriet talking about babies."  
  
"I kinda feel sorry for them to be working with Harriet just after finding out she's pregnant. She's very excited."  
  
Mac glanced at the newspaper lying on Harm's desk. On the front page was a picture of the eight victims with the heading 'Navy Slayer Kills Two'. It was almost frightening to think that they were the next intended targets. Sure, she had been in combat before and had faced many threats to her life but she had always been prepared, knowing her enemy. This was different, she didn't know who this manic was or what he was thinking when he wanted to kill. This was just one sick son of a bitch...just like Coster. She knew Harm was worried too, he was carrying two weapons now- something he never did when he was working from the office. She just hoped he wouldn't have to use them.  
  
"It's worrying, isn't it?" Harm said, as if reading her mind. It was amazing how he did that, how he always knew if something was troubling her.  
  
"Yes, it is. Do...do you think we'll catch the killer in time?"  
  
Harm stood up from behind his desk and took her by the shoulders, smiling at her. "I don't trust Sam not to embarrass me or to humiliate my superiors but I do trust him with our lives. I believe that he and Kim will catch this psycho."  
  
It was at that moment, with Harm holding her, that Sam, Kim, and the office janitor burst in. Kim was smiling and Sam bit his lip, looking at his feet.  
  
"Oops, came in an intimate moment...I haven't done that since I was eight."  
  
Harm quickly back peddled away to his desk. "You didn't interrupt on anything, Sammy," he warned, tightly.  
  
"Oh yeah- the fraternisation rule." He winked. "Gotcha, we never saw nothing."  
  
"There's nothing going on, Sam."  
  
The janitor glared at them. "The boy's right. You two better not have any shameful business going on between you, that's how all this murder stuff began in the first place," he stated as he pulled out his mop, giving the floor a sweep. "If people were moral and followed the rules, this type of thing would never go on. I've seen you two going out and such and I tell you, that kind of thing never happened in my day."  
  
Harm nodded curtly. "Thank you for the advice, sir," he said, in a not-so-discreet dismissive tone. Mac was stunned at the lecture she had come to expect from admirals not from the janitor. The shock of it even took her mind off the pizzas Sam and Kim clutched.  
  
The janitor muttered, collecting his equipment and turned to the four as he went to leave. "Don't you say you were never warned. You're just asking for trouble by carrying with this behaviour."  
  
When he left Sam thrust the pizzas to the desk and smiled grimly. "I think we just have our first suspect, girls and boys."  
  
***************************  
**FBI Building, Washington DC  
0536 EST, September 21st**  
They were all up at the crack of dawn to investigate their first suspect- Roger Owen, the janitor of the Falls Church JAG Headquarters. Sam insisted on going to the FBI Building claiming he worked better from home base, it felt so good to have a lead the others said nothing. Since Jack Harper and his partner were out of the area, that left Sam and Kim's office free for them to work in peace. Each sat at a desk, with a computer terminal and a pile of files in front of them.  
  
"Okay, what have you guys found?" Mac asked.  
  
"Okay, our boy- dear ol' Roger Owen- was a Vietnam vet back in the sixties- a Navy SEAL to be precise. Was married with four kids- three boys and a daughter. He was injured seriously and was sent home for treatment but was left with a permanent back injury. Now when Rog returned to his home in California it was to find wifie taking off saying she couldn't' cope with an disabled husband. She took off with all the kiddies. He was given a medical discharge from the Navy and a few years later got this janitor's job he holds now."  
  
"So, he could have a grudge against the Navy," said Kim, flatly.  
  
Harm felt a strange, illogical need to defend the Navy. "Hey, it wasn't the Navy's fault he was injured and his wife left him."  
  
"Hamie, that's what you don't seem to understand about wackos...they aren't rational, they kill because in their sick minds what they're doing is logical to them."  
  
"But what about the partner thing?"  
  
"His wife left him, something which he must feel anger at even now. You know, having a partner yourself, the saying goes you never let the other down, you stick by your partner's side. Maybe there is an element of jealousy because he wants the type of partnership with his wife that these males have with their partners...though, the Wyte and Warner killings don't fit in with the profile."  
  
In Harm's opinion, he thought they had enough in the way of a motive to make an arrest. He just wanted to be able to go outside without looking over his back for fear of this nut. It was only now he comprehended what Mac went through with Coster, the fear of being stalked and having your control stolen from you. It was terrifying.  
  
"I think we should take him in, Sam," Harm suggested. "Get him off the street."  
  
"Wait," interrupted Mac, "how could Owen get inside all of these places to spy on the officers? I mean, the academy and JAG is relatively low security compared to some areas but he would have had to get high-level access to go sneaking around in the bases and the Pentagon."  
  
"Well, unless those fat-cat, huge pay packet CIA agents and military types clean their own offices, I'd say all Rog had to do was his job. He's a vet and a patriot by the sound of his personnel file, who better to hire to clean up in high level areas? Someone might have been watching him to make sure he didn't sneak off into sensitive areas or touch anything but he didn't want to touch things, he wanted to touch people."  
  
"He sounds like a perfect candidate," commented Harm. Maybe finally, they could put this Owen away and put this horrific care behind them.  
  
Sam cast a sideways glance at his cousin. "Do you wan t us to bring him in, Harm? It's your call."  
  
"What do you think? This is your area of expertise."  
  
"We could bring him in for questioning, see what we come up with."  
  
"You're not sure?"  
  
"This isn't a science, Hamie, we'll just have to go with the flow and see what pops up when we stew our old janitor friend."  
  
***************************  
**JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
1118 EST, September 21st**  
Dressed in their undercover Navy uniforms, it was Sam and Kim who were assigned the job of searching Owen's closet office since they would know what to look for. Sam was secretly hoping this was the last time they would have to wear this ridiculous dress-ups.  
  
Piling old magazines and other such junk the janitor had collected into boxes for transport to the FBI Headquarters, Bud and Harriet looked in on what they were doing.  
  
"Are you searching through the janitor's things?" Harriet asked, hesitant to enter the area which belonged to a suspected serial killer.  
  
"Yep, for analysis."  
  
"Shouldn't the FBI be doing that?" Bud questioned in curiosity.   
  
This guy was quick for all the bumbling he did in the presence of senior officers. Sam smiled. "The FBI said for us to transport this crap, the Navy didn't want Feds meddling in their property in case they came across one of 'those' files."  
  
Before Bud could respond, Harm and Mac stopped by. "How are things going?" asked Harm, not just asking about the search but about how the interrogation with Owen, that had began yesterday, was going.  
  
"Good on all fronts," Sam replied. He was praying this was to be the end of their stint as undercover agents but he and Kim had decided to keep up appearances until they were one hundred percent in the clear.  
  
"Did the FBI say if they think this is our killer?" Mac asked.  
  
"They're hoping it is but they won't know for a while," Kim answered. "One agent I did speak to did think the janitor was definitely not quite on the sane marker."  
  
"So, this is the killer?"  
  
"Could be."  
  
"Okay, we'll give the FBI a call later and see what they've come up with," Harm said, waving them off as he and Mac continued back to their office.  
  
"Just think, this will be the last thing we do in this place hopefully," Sam said to his partner, forgetting Bud and Harriet were there.  
  
Harriet looked anxious. "Why is that? Are you transferring out?"  
  
"We certainly hope so," Sam said.  
  
"As much as we like it here," Kim said, trying to smooth out Sam's reply, "this isn't quite our 'area of expertise'."  
  
"But you were only here for a few days," protested Bud. "How can to you transfer away so soon?"  
  
"Who's transferring?" called another voice.  
  
Sam looked up from the boxes to see Tiner now joining the husband and wife pair by the door. What was this- a social gathering for the JAG officers? Still, it was nice to know over these few days he and Kim had made some friends.  
  
"Kim and I are maybe."  
  
"Where are you going?" Tiner wanted to know.  
  
"I dun, not too far probably." Across town at the FBI Building close enough?  
  
Harriet was still interested on this topic. "Both of you together are going?"  
  
"Yep, it's not like we're lovers or anything but we're partners and partners stick together." He honed in on Mac and Harm, who were laughing over something in his office. With a grin, Sam added, "Although some partners stick closer than others."  
  
Harriet giggled. "Oh, they are getting closer, aren't they?"  
  
"Yes," said Tiner, "when they were first partnered together they weren't like that. Actually, I think they hated each other. Now they spend all their time together, both in and out of court and the office."  
  
Kim sighed. "Cute, huh?" Harriet agreed, casting the unsuspecting partners a gaze.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "Lets go, Kimmy, before I go into a blood sugar overdose with all this lovey-dovey talk. See you guys around."  
  
Just as the two FBI agents were leaving with their hands laden with boxes, Admiral Loxton walked in. Neither agent made an attempt to put down their box to stand to attention, enraging Loxton all the more.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded to know.  
  
"For your information, we're going out," replied Sam, moving around him.  
  
"We have to drop these off to the FBI, sir," Kim said.  
  
"Well, you make sure those FBI are working hard on breaking the prisoner so we can put that killer."  
  
Sam rolled his eyes. "You see, that's kind of hard since Roger Owen is a suspect not a killer, formal charges haven't even been brought up. Also, the FBI do try to stay within federal regulations and they don't 'break' anyone...sir."  
  
"I'm going to get you, boy, mark my words I will have you brought up on insubordination charges if you don't smarten up quick fast."  
  
"That's also be hard since I ain't gonna be hanging around for much longer, me and Kim are transferring the hell outta here."  
  
Loxton glared at Sam. "Then I'll be watching you all the way through your career, I'll make sure you don't get another promotion until the moon turns blue."  
  
"Oh yeah, see if I care," Sam yelled back as he walked out of the front entrance with Kim shadowing behind.  
  
***************************  
**FBI Building, Washington DC  
1646 EST, September 23rd**  
Harm and Mac had gone out celebrating when the FBI formally charged Roger Owen for the first degree murder of eight Naval officers. They had brought the man in three days ago for questioning and as time wore on in the interrogation room, the janitor seemed more and more suspicious.  
  
Owen's hatred towards relationships between partners was obvious and he was actually blaming the murder victims for their deaths, stating they deserved it. It was quite scary to think this lunatic had been working quietly over these years with this resentment bubbling under the surface. This guy looked like some kid's sweet old grandfather and here he was moaning on how the Navy was filled with evil, people who had relationships should burn in hell and if he ever saw his wife again he would kill her with his own bare hands...Sweet old grandfather indeed.  
  
And yet there was something Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. Owen may have had a problem with the Navy and male/female partnerships but he was still an old man with a back condition...  
  
"Still not sure, huh, Partner?"  
  
Sam looked up from his lap-top to see Kim standing by the doorframe watching him. "I dun, there's something..."  
  
"Harm and Mac seem to think we caught our man."  
  
"They're lawyers, Kim, and potential targets. It makes them feel better if there is a person behind bars...I reckon if they weren't on the hit list they may have been more objective. As it is I'm still not sure."  
  
"What makes you so unsure, Sam?"  
  
Whenever he had a hunch, not matter how inconsequential it sounded, Kim always listened to him. Many of his colleagues were willing to dismiss him on the basis of his age and lack of experience but he knew he could always count on Kim. Harm had the same relationship...oops- partnership with Mac. It was good to see his cousin share a bond like that, he was cool as a pilot but Sam always felt it was a bit of a loner's job.  
  
He sighed, slouching in his chair. "I'm not sure...look at this guy, Kimbo, he was disabled and old, the victims were young and well trained."  
  
Kim wasn't willing to give in so easily. Part of being partners was to challenge and make the other think. "Yes, but we all know the Navy trains its people well. Owen was a former SEAL, I bet he isn't as weak as you think."  
  
"Yes, but his back was kinda troublesome."  
  
"Okay, but that was what the tranq was used for. To subdue the victims, he knew he couldn't take them on so he quietened them down."  
  
"But, Kim, the guy was still old- I mean you saw him in the Interrogation Room, he needed help back to his damn cell after only four hours of sitting in a chair doing nothing. Nope, that don't sit right with me."  
  
"So who else could it be?"  
  
He shrugged, looking away. "The Navy was looking for an easy way out on this case- they needed a killer. This case had a lot of media coverage not to mention officers watching must have been pretty freaked out. It makes them all feel secure if there is someone looked up...You know, our friend the Ad is pretty fit for n old guy, hell, he's better than some of the young men. And he didn't seem pleased about his godson's relationship with his partner."  
  
"Wait, don't get so paranoid. You've seen the way Chedwiggen is with his officers. He may be tough and all but he does care for them, somehow I don't see him slaughtering them like sheep."  
  
"Hey, they say it's the quiet, least suspecting ones you have to look out for. You're happy-go-luck neighbour next door could turn around one day and murder you like you were nothing."  
  
Kim raised an eyebrow at her partner. "You're getting paranoid, Sammy, if you don't watch it you're gonna become like our resident basement agents. You spend too much time with complex psychos that it's hard for you to give in to a simple answer."  
  
"And I thought I was the shrink."  
  
She grinned. "Look, why don't we go down to the JAG HQ and pick up our things? You can insult some admirals and I can say goodbye to Harriet and the others and let them know who we really are."  
  
"Okay, I left some of my favourite candy bars there."  
  
Even as they left the office, Sam couldn't put the feeling of uneasiness to the back of his mind. Something was missing, he could feel it in his bones...  
  
***************************  
**JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
1735 EST, September 23rd**  
The two agents received some strange, inquiring looks as they entered the JAG office dressed in 'civilian' clothing. They went straight to their former desks where they began emptying their few personal items they had left.  
  
Bud and Harriet were at their own desks, finishing up on some last minute paperwork, when they caught sight of their friends who appeared nothing like Navy officers with the pair looking so comfortable in expensive Armani suits.   
  
"Hi, are you leaving today?" Bud asked.  
  
"Yeah," replied Sam, "We are kind of leaving, but we will be staying in DC so you'll probably see us around."  
  
Harriet stood up and walked around her desk. "What are you going to do now?"  
  
"Well, that's sort of complicated," Kim said.  
  
She was just about to explained her role as an FBI agent and their jobs in the Navy was only undercover work when Sam interrupted, gazing around the office. "Hey, where's Tiner? He's usually in when the Ad is." He knew Chedwiggen was in since his door was slightly ajar yet Tiner was no where in sight, away from his customary post outside the Ad's office.  
  
"Oh, Tiner was sick today," explained Bud.  
  
Ever the gossip, his wife quickly filled in all the details. "Yes, poor Tiner has always suffered from terrible asthma. Did you know he went into the academy but he couldn't stay because of such poor health? He decided to stay with the Navy as a non-com but it's been so hard for him. He tries to hard but he gets so sick sometimes he had to have time off. Still, he does do extra courses at the academy, he hopes one day the asthma will calm down a bit and let him do more."  
  
The elaborate information was not what either agent expected but then over the last few days they had learnt that Harriet loved to talk, that was part of her bubbly personality. As the two women and Bud talked typical office talk, Sam's mind was processing data. Suddenly, everything clicked into place.  
  
"Oh my God..." he muttered. The trio stared at him, bewildered at the wide-eyed expression Sam now wore. "Kim, don't people with serious asthma also suffer from recurrent panic attacks?" He knew this already since one of his childhood friends was frequently afflicted with both asthma and anxiety attacks but he needed his lack of medical familiarity verified.  
  
"Well, yes, sometimes they have a reaction and they panic thinking their breathing difficulties are due to the asthma when in fact they are only hyperventilating due to an emotional reaction. Why? What's wrong, Sam?"  
  
Bud and Harriet were obviously puzzled at Sam's line of questioning and Kim's accurate medical knowledge, but he ignored them. "What kind of drugs are prescribed for panic attacks?"  
  
"Usually, counselling or psychotherapy is required but in severe cases something like a Benzodiazepine drug would be used."  
  
"Which does what exactly?"  
  
"It promotes mental and physical relaxation...  
  
"'Promotes mental and physical relaxation', huh? Enough to incapacitate a potential victim?"  
  
"Well, yeah, depending on how much is used."  
  
"Was the tranquilliser used on our victims a Benzo-whatever?"  
  
"Yes, Diazepam was used and that's a Benzodiazepine and, yes, it would be used for anxiety attacks in some cases. Sam, you don't think...?"  
  
Sam turned to Bud. "Bud, get the Ad out here now!" Bud, seeing the young agent's evident distress, wasted no time asking questions. He looked to Harriet. "Harriet, try to get a hold of Harm and Mac. Get them in here or down to the FBI building, tell them we think the UNSUB could be PO Tiner."  
  
Abruptly Admiral Chedwiggen burst out of his office after being summoned by an agitated Bud. In the main area he found Harriet using the phoned rather enthusiastically while both Kim and Sam appeared worried. "What's going on? Agent Madigan, Agent Adair, what are you two doing in this neck of the woods? I thought the case was over."  
  
Bud and Harriet were stunned to find their new friends were not in the Navy but were in fact FBI, and not only that but their commanding officer obviously knew. They were aware the pair were not model officers but for them to be FBI agents was a huge shock.  
  
Sam tossed a grin at them before returning his attention to the Ad. "I need a copy of PO Tiner's personnel and medical files, Ad, now."  
  
Chedwiggen scowled. He didn't like to be ordered around, especially not by a kid. "Why do you need those files, son?"  
  
"Because we have reason to believe Tiner could be our Navy Slayer, the evidence in those files could elaborate further either confirming or disavowing my theory. Please, Ad, trust me on this, now I know I ain't a good little Navy boy but I am a good profiler so believe me when I think Roger Owen is not our man."  
  
Sighing, Chedwiggen had to agree with the kid. He had gone over the boy's own personnel file just after finding out he was the head investigator in the killings. He had a high solve rate of ninety-three percent not to mention he was an excellent psychologist whom could easily switch back to practising at a click of a finger.  
  
"Okay," Chedwiggen relented, "I can give you the personnel file but the medical files are off limits." He focused his frown at Kim. "You of all of them know why. I mean, you were taught about the patient/doctor confidentiality oath?"  
  
"I do keep the things my patients say confidential," Kim replied smoothly. "But since they're dead then they never have much to say...Truth be told, both Sam and I are doctors and I'm sure anything we see in those files will be kept confidential."  
  
Very sharp, that was the kind of answer he expected from Rabb in the court room. "You should have been a lawyer."  
  
Kim smirked. "Nah, never been to good with the living."  
  
"I'll bet. Right, I'll give you the access, but please..." He trailed off, not knowing how to say what he felt. It was bad enough that Andrew and seven other good officers were dead but to find that it was Tiner- a man he trusted implacably- was the murderer was astonishing. He didn't want them to look for things in Tiner's record that wasn't there.  
  
Sam cocked his head in understanding. "Don't worry, Ad, we'll be careful. We won't hurt him if he isn't needing to be hurt."  
  
"That's all I ask, call me when you find anything."  
  
***************************  
**JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
1822 EST, September 23rd**  
For next forty-five minutes, Sam and Kim poured over the files with Bud and Harriet continuing to try and get in touch with Harm and Mac and Tiner with not much success. At the same time, the two agents put down the files- their eyes meeting.  
  
"Well?" asked Kim. Bud and Harriet also centred on Sam, who had been reading the personnel file.  
  
Sam sighed. This was what he wanted to read but it wasn't what the Navy husband and wife would want to hear. "I think this could be it, guys. It seems Peter Tiner lost in his mother at the age of six. The mother committed suicide in front of the boy's eyes when his Navy father ran off with his aide. Such an event can be a turning point in a child's life, more especially for a six-year-old boy. Him and his siblings then went to live with his father and the aide but get this- the aide died of arsenic poisoning when Tiner was nine. Arsenic was found in the father's garage, he claimed it was used for poisoning the rats. Anyway, Daddy was jailed and he protested his innocence to the day of his death three years later when he was found hanging in his cell."  
  
"You think it was Tiner who killed the aide?" Bud whispered, hoping it was not so.  
  
"Serial killers often begin young, torturing younger kids or animals. Perhaps, Tiner aimed higher than most. Now when his father was jailed the kids were all sent to live with an aunt and uncle who adopted them. When he was old enough he applied to join the Navy but his asthma prevented him so he enlisted as a non-com."  
  
"All that doesn't mean he's a psychopath, Sam," Kim pointed out.  
  
"No, but get this- at the time of the cadet killings he was at the academy doing some courses. At the time of the New York killings, he was on holiday- his aunt and uncle live in New York plus he was 'good friends' with the victims. And for the last two double murders he was right here. Wyte and Warner were his lecturers in some of the current courses he's doing now and they have been in the papers lately showing off some new project they were going to do together. And look at the way he noticed Harm and Mac were becoming 'close' friends. It sure seems like a lot to me."  
  
"I don't believe this," Harriet squeaked. "We've been working side-by-side with a killer?!"  
  
"Could be," Sam said. "I know it's difficult, but I don't think he would ever hurt you, Bud or your baby-to-be. He would probably approve of your marriage."  
  
"That does not make us feel better," said Bud, wrapping an arm around his wife.  
  
"I know," commiserated Sam. "Kim, what about you? Find anything?"  
  
Kim bobbed her head, sadly. "Yep, it looks like he did suffer from severe anxiety attacks and insomnia so he was prescribed Diazepam from a Navy doctor five years ago at the time of the first killing then again on and off over the years. He's back on them now. He did pass his psyche test with flying colours but then, so do most psychopaths since they feed the shrink what they want to hear."  
  
Pulling his cell phone out, he dialled his AD's number. "Sir, it's Madigan here. I think we have the wrong man. We need to put an APB out for a Peter Tiner, Admiral Chedwiggen's yeoman. We have a motive and good reason to suspect he's behind the killings." He paused. "Okay, sir."  
  
Admiral Chedwiggen had now joined the four. His brow was deeply furrowed. He couldn't believe this- it was one thing it was his janitor that killed all those officers but to think it was a man he thought he knew, a man he sometimes looked on as a nephew. If he ever got his hands on Tiner...  
  
"What did your AD say?"   
  
"He's sending agents to Tiner's house to arrest him and until then we should assume he is armed and dangerous. We need to find Harm and Mac right away, this is day four. Tiner could strike tonight."  
  
"Where could they go?" asked Harriet. "I've tried both their apartments, their cell phones and their pagers."  
  
"Hamie tends to leave his cell phone and pager behind if he has plans, he isn't as comfortable with technology as I am."  
  
Bud frowned. "Hamie?"  
  
"Yep, my big cousin's nickname." He grinned at Harriet and Bud's astonishment at this new fact. "Yeah, I know it's weird. Me, the FBI agent, and him, Mister Navy, to be related."  
  
"Well, then maybe you might know where they are," Bud suggested.  
  
"Nope, me and big coz aren't quite up-to-date with each other's schedules. I'm hardly ever in DC so I don't know what he gets up to when he's here."  
  
"So what now?" Kim sighed. "Where the hell could they be?"  
  
It was Chedwiggen's turn to scowl. "When the Commander and Major returned from Russia, didn't they go out on that boat Rabb sometimes hires for weekends? They seem to do that a lot to relax...you know how much Rabb loves the sea."  
  
Sam and Kim exchanged gazes. "Okay, lets find out the name of that boat and where it docks and hope old Tiner doesn't find them first."  
  
Like a bad penny, Admiral Loxton decided to grace them all with his presence. As per usual, he wore a deep scowl as if his face would crack if he smiled.  
  
"I hear you have found the murderer," he stated.  
  
"They never found the murderer, the FBI did," interjected Sam.  
  
"Why aren't you in uniform, Lieutenants?" he barked.  
  
Sam just ignored him. "Ad, we're going to Hamie's apartment to see if we can where he and Mac are. I'll call if we find anything. And if they aren't there on that damn boat, I'll kill them both myself." He and Kim swiftly stalked out leaving Loxton stuttering his complaints and moans.  
  
***************************  
**Thirty Miles From Shore  
1952 EST, September 23rd**  
Oblivious to the alarm and worry pervading their friends and colleagues, Harm and Mac floated over the calm blue waters on the old sailing boat, carefree and finally relaxing from all the anxiety of the previous days.  
  
"It's so peaceful," sighed Mac, leaning back on the deckchair.  
  
"Great, isn't it?" smiled Harm.  
  
"Yeah, I almost forgot what peace is...So you must be glad to have Sam out of the office?"  
  
Glad? Try elated. The brat was undoing all the good his healthy eating had done for his heart. Any more time with Sam and he would have collapsed of a high blood pressure or a heart attack.  
  
"You could say that. Loxton and the Admiral will be the ones more happier to get rid of him."  
  
"Oh, I don't know, I think he was beginning to grow on the Admiral."  
  
"Like the way a parasite grows," sniggered Harm.  
  
"You're being too hard on him...I bet you'll miss him."  
  
Harm's sigh was enough of an answer. As hard as it was for him to admit it, this case had been good for their relationship. After he left for the academy, it was hard to find the time to come home for a visit, there was always work to do and being a young man he wanted to be with his friends or be independent in his apartment. At the times he was home, it was usually during the school term with Sam and Jenny too immersed in schoolwork to play. Then one day he did come home to find his little nine-year-old cousin was grown up and in the FBI too busy with his profiles and his own cases.  
  
"I hope you're going to keep in touch with him, I mean I know you already did but now you've been given a chance to get closer."  
  
"I know, and I think I will take up that chance."  
  
Mac smiled at him. It was rather ironic that a woman who had little or no relationship with her own family was guiding him with his family. But then, it was Mac who knew him best and for a killer to threaten both for that familiarity, their close partnership must be blatantly obvious. However, it was the time to build on that basis- their careers still had far to go and any complications could be disastrous. No, for the time being he and Mac would be good friend, no more and hopefully no less...for now anyway.  
  
"What's that weird smile for?" Mac asked.  
  
He realised as he mulled over their lives, he was sitting there grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Luckily, before he delved into unknown territory, the wind began to pick up creating choppy waves.  
  
"The weather's turning," he pointed out, " we should head back."  
  
***************************  
**Somewhere Not So Far From Harm And Mac  
2003 EST, September 23rd**  
He watched them from the docks through the telescope Daddy had bought him as a child the night before he hurt Mommy. They were turning their boat and heading back to shore as the weather was gradually worsening.  
  
It was fate. Mommy always believed in fate. It was Daddy's fate to die in prison, it was his fate to kill those who had hurt Mommy just like Kelly had. Rabb and Mackenzie did not directly hurt Mommy but their affair was a symbol of what sins Daddy had committed.  
  
But not to worry, soon Rabb and Mackenzie would repent. And Mommy would gaze down at him, proud of her favourite son.  
  
***************************  
**The Docks  
2023 EST, September 23rd**  
"D'you want to get something to eat?" Harm asked Mac as he docked the boat.  
  
Mac was busy searching for her car keys in her bag. "Sure, where do you want to go? We can go anywhere as long as it isn't some health bar."  
  
Instead of answering, all Mac heard of a strange pinging sound and a thud. She spun round to find Harm on the ground, a dart sticking from his chest.  
  
"Harm!" She ran to his side, feeling for a pulse in his neck. There was a faint but steady throb beneath her fingers. She gently tapped his cheek and Harm's eyes opened to slits.  
  
"Mac..." he whispered. "He...The killer...is here."  
  
"Yes, but you're gonna be fine."  
  
"No...you get...out of...here."  
  
"No, I'm not leaving you here."  
  
"Go..." Harm shouted forcefully though his voice was little more than a barely audible whisper.  
  
Ignoring his pleas, Mac frantically gazed around looking for someone to help while on guard for Roger Owen. Suddenly she caught sight of movement. Instinctively reaching for the gun she knew she did not have, she sighed with relief as PO Tiner came out from the shadows.  
  
"Tiner? What are you doing here?" she breathed. "Tiner, I need you to call 911 for the police and an ambulance. There's a killer out here." When Tiner steeped into the moonlight, Mac noticed that replacing the boyish look of innocence she was used to, Tiner's face was eerily blank, devoid of emotion. It was unnerving. "Tiner...? Tiner, are you okay?" It was then she noticed the small black gun in her subordinate's hand. "Oh my God..."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you, Major, I like you and the Commander. But you might someone like Daddy hurt Mommy and I have to see that you don't. You understand, don't you?"  
  
He fished in his pocket for something, pulling out a syringe. From Sam's notes, she remembered the females of the double murders were given arsenic. Oh hell...She wasn't a doctor but Kim had spelled out the implications of the poison; severe stomach cramps, sickness, death- a very painful death. Only a few milligrams were needed to sign a person's death certificate.  
  
Tiner advanced on her, backing Mac against the pier wall. Help from Harm was virtually hopeless- he was drugged out of his mind, possibly even to the point of overdose. The young man she thought she knew so well, she compared his youthfulness to that of Bud or Harriet's, was standing here about to butcher her and her best friend like their were pieces of meat...She didn't know whether to scream or to cry.  
  
"Don't worry, just take the little shot and all the pain will be over," Tiner sang in a sing-song voice as if he were persuading a stubborn child into a visit to the dentist's.  
  
He lifted his hand above his head, preparing to bring the syringe down on her when her Marine training and all those years of kick-boxing clicked back to her shock-clouded mind. This time is wasn't just her life on the line, it was Harm's too.  
  
Just as Tiner moved to plunge the poison into her, she was too fast- dodging out of the way- making Tiner's moves seem clumsy by comparison. She delivered a swift kick, her feet striking Tiner's chest. The older boy staggered back, winded but he did not drop the syringe.  
  
"Fighting will only make things worse," vowed Tiner.  
  
Mac brought her left leg forward then with full force she kneed Tiner in his groin, at that moment swiftly kicking his left knee with his other leg. Tiner dropped the needle in shock, and sank to the ground in pain clutching his groin. But Mac was no-where near finished.  
  
She slugged Tiner squarely in the chest, then performed a flawless three-hundred-and-sixty degree kick- her foot hitting the side of Tiner's head. Though it must have hurt like hell, each blow was struck with scrupulous position- hard enough to hurt severely and serious injury.  
  
His temple swelling immediately and lip burst, Tiner collapsed into unconsciousness. When she was sure he was out, Mac dashed back to Harm's side.  
  
She slapped his cheek lightly and he murmured. His eyes fluttered open but he was dazed. "Huh...?"  
  
"It's okay, Harm," she soothed.  
  
Suddenly, two sharp shots punctuated the air. Mac and a confused Harm turned just in time to see Tiner fall to the ground, the injection held firmly in his hand.  
  
"God, I'd hate to see you guys on a good day," came sardonic voice.  
  
Sam stood there, Kim a metre or so away. Both held their still smoking guns. Kim ran to assist with Harm while Sam inspected the body.  
  
"He's dead," Sam said, feeling futilely for a pulse in Tiner's neck. "Oh well, not great loss to the world."  
  
"Sam," warned Kim.  
  
He shrugged innocently. "Hey, it's true. How's Hamie?"  
  
"He's just dazed, the dose wasn't enough to knock him out for a few minutes." Kim and Mac helped Harm into a sitting position. "He should be watched over but he should be fine."  
  
"How did you know?" Mac uttered, her eyes shifting from her partner to the two FBI agents.  
  
"Just a hunch," grinned Sam. He groaned when he saw two cars drew up. The doors opened and Admirals Chedwiggen and Loxton stepped out of the respective vehicles. Loxton looked on the war-path.  
  
"What the hell happened out here?" he demanded. "What the hell are you doing shooting a Navy officer?"  
  
Chedwiggen opened his mouth to probably try and explain but Loxton took off on another dirge. He grabbed Sam's by the shoulder's and shook him, the FBI agent taking it all surprised. "I'm going to see you get put away for life for killing a good man and if that doesn't work I'll court martial your young ass all the way to China and back, you bet my word on that, boy."  
  
Quickly regaining his faculties, Sam's voice was cold and low. "Your 'good man' was a fucking serial killer about to slaughter two decent officers and then carry on as usual until he found some more victims. And your goddamn court martial doesn't mean shit to me, you see you can't court martial little old me."  
  
"Don't think having any AHD or whatever will save you now," Loxton cut in arrogantly.  
  
"ADHD has nothing to do with it. You see, you can't court martial me because I'm not in the Navy." Loxton's jaw dropped. Sam smirked. "Yeah, that's right, I'm a federal agent working undercover to guard two officers while trying to find our killer. Now I suggest you get the hell out of here before I have you old, fat, arrogant ass charged with assault on a federal agent."  
  
Loxton dropped his hands from Sam. "Boy, I'll...I'll..."  
  
"You'll fuck off is what you'll do," Sam said calmly. He turned to his partner, noting her amused smile. Even Mac and the usually stiff Chedwiggen were fighting back their own smirks  
  
"Wow," was all Harm could say from his drugged haze.  
  
***************************  
**JAG Headquarters, Falls Church  
2216 EST, September 23rd**  
"Well, I can't say I won't be sad to see it go but I'll be glad to get back to my psychos and killers and working by my rules. All this uniform and rules and regs crap isn't me."  
  
Harm glared incredulously at his cousin. "Sam, don't you have 'rules and regs' at the FBI?"  
  
"Yeah," shrugged Sam, "but I don't follow them."  
  
Harm just shook his head, he'd given up on making Sam a Navy officer. With all his cheek, lack of respect to authority and his crazy antics he'd have all the hardened officers joining the monastery than work with him. "I can't say I'll be sad to see you go, but I think it is for the best."  
  
Mac smiled. "Oh, I don't know. It was kind of cool working with you guys."  
  
Inwardly, Harm rolled his eyes. One would have thought she'd have had enough excitement being stalked and then kickboxing a killer. She was such a violence magnet she should have been the one working with his impertinent cousin.  
  
"Mac, I think you should just stick with law," advised Harm.  
  
All eyes went to Chedwiggen as the older man stepped out of his office, glanced at Tiner's empty desk then dashed for the toilets.  
  
"Is he going to be okay?" Kim asked.  
  
"He'll get over this, but it'll take some time." Sam took out a card from his jacket. "Here's the name of a good counsellor I know, her name's Gabby Scott and she deals with this kind of thing all the time...Well, not exactly this type of thing- I admit this is the first for even me- but she deals with similar circumstances."  
  
Harm took the card but shook his head. "I don't think he'll go for that but it can't hurt to ask."  
  
"We'd better be going," Kim said, "I feel like I could crash for the next year."  
  
As the two agents went to leave, Harm called out to them, "Keep in touch."  
  
"Yeah, it'll be good to see each other again soon," Mac added.  
  
"Don't worry," Sam grinned mischievously, "we'll be hanging out in DC for a while yet, just think of this as our first case together."  
  
Before Harm could tell them not to bother, that they could go back to LA and take their craziness with them, they were out of the door. He turned to Mac.  
  
"Why do I dread our next case together?"  
  
It couldn't be any worse than this; eight Navy officer dead to another officer's hand, one pissed off admiral, one stressed admiral, and one very confused JAG office. Of course, it couldn't get any worse...but then with Sam, who knew?  
  
*******************************************************************************  
At LAST it's finally finished!!! I started this ages ago but with all my exams and a little thing called university it took so long to get finished. But now it's done I can move onto other stuff. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this 'little' piece and please send me feedback about this story.  
  



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